Living
by WritingOnTheStars
Summary: "You love me. Real or not real?" "Real." - And now they begin. Katniss/Peeta. Post-Mockingjay, pre-epilogue.
1. Katniss: The Morning After

Author's Note: This story is set after Ch 27 of Mockingjay, with this chapter set the day after the "You love me, real or not real?" exchange. The rest of the chapters will probably move forward chronologically from this point. I don't really have a solid plan for this story, so we will see how it goes. Hope you enjoy.

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><p>I wake up feeling very warm. Peeta's breath puffs against my neck and suddenly the events of the previous night come rushing back to my mind. I immediately begin to panic and try to escape the bed, but Peeta is draped half way on top of me and his arm is hooked around my hip, causing the both of us to tumble to the ground in a sea of blankets.<p>

We scramble for a moment before his curly blonde head pops out from a fold in the quilt and gives me a bewildered expression. It seems that he is slowly recalling last night as well, but instead of trying to run, a lazy grin spreads across his face. I feel a furious blush crawl from my cheeks down my neck, and his gaze follows the reddening of my skin down to my bare chest.

His sleepy eyes are suddenly wide awake and he raises his head to look at my face. "Katniss," he sighs, plopping backwards on to the quilt once again. I lean over to look at him and his hands grip my waist, pulling me down with him. A small laugh escapes my lips and I feel silly for trying to run. But Peeta doesn't question why we are on the floor, so I don't mention it and rest my chin on his chest.

"Hey," he murmurs, threading his fingers into my hair. "What you said last night... Real or not real?"

I can understand his uncertainty. Over the past year I've thought about all the lies that I've told him since our Reaping and it made me question whether I should stay with him, for his own good. But he always convinces me to come back, that he loves me, that he always has and always will. Now it's my turn. I press my palms against his cheeks, watching his thick eyebrows arch in confusion, his eyes infinitely patient. Always waiting for me.

"I love you," I say simply, because I've never said those words in that order and really meant them. It frightens me when I feel the weight of them pass my lips, but I know that Peeta deserves them, and before I can say anything else he pulls me down into a lingering kiss. His hands move up my back and I start feeling that thing welling in my chest again, and I think that Peeta wants to move back to the bed, but the mood is interrupted when we hear Haymitch outside hollering after a stray goose.

We both laugh and I rest my forehead against his. "I really do, though. For real."

"I know," he replies, pressing light kisses to each of my cheeks. "It's nice to hear, though."

"I'll tell you more often."

"Ha, you don't need to do that. Just be you. That's all I've ever wanted, is for you to be yourself. And to be with me, of course."

I smile. "Of course." Standing proves to be difficult as both of our legs are wrapped in the quilt. A thread catches on the edge of Peeta's prosthetic and he starts apologizing profusely at the small rip. I wave him off and we start getting dressed.

I can't help but watch him for a moment. Last night was sudden and I didn't really get much time to really look at him. He is still thinner than before we went into our first arena, but his arms are strong from baking and gardening over the last few months. His skin is patched with light pink splotches and raised scars, like a road map of the past two years, and I think he's so beautiful. The stump that was his leg never bothered me, since I had seen much worse things when my mother had preformed operations on our kitchen table when I was a kid. It is just one more part of Peeta. Plus, I know how he lost his leg and I never take for granted that he is still here. At least, I don't anymore. His blonde curls shine like gold in the morning sun and I press a kiss to the back of his neck before walking to my closet.

Now I feel his eyes on me and I blush again. I'm trying to not feel self-conscious in front of him, but I can't help but try to cover myself slightly while I look for my clothes. He just laughs. "No point being modest now, Katniss," he teases, and I turn back to him, a bundle of clothes in my hands. Peeta is sitting on the edge of the bed clad in boxers and the t-shirt he wore yesterday, putting his pants on slowly.

"Whatever," I reply, giving him a half scowl as I pull on my underwear. I deftly clasp my bra around my rips and adjust it so that my breasts sit in the cups properly. Since Peeta started baking and making me eat regularly, I've gained weight to the point where I look healthy again. My breasts have grown and I my bra lifts them nicely, and despite the scars and patches of tender flesh I feel like a normal girl for a moment. I hadn't even needed a bra for months after returning to District 12, I was so skinny.

Peeta is dressed and stands, approaching me with a smile on his face. He rests his hands on my hips and dips his head, kissing the tops of my breasts lightly, and I feel my face reddening but I can't help the little grin on my face. "What are you going to do today?" he asks.

"Hunting," I reply, moving to put on my shirt. "You?"

"Baking."

The sun has completely risen now. I put on my pants, then we head downstairs and put on our shoes in a comfortable silence. We part, him heading to his house and me heading to the woods. I know that we need to have a talk about what exactly our relationship is at this point, but it can wait until later.

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><p>I come back in the early afternoon with three rabbits, five squirrels, and a turkey. I distribute the squirrels to the few families that have tried to rebuild our little District. There are plans for a medicine factory and the reopening of the mines (with proper safety equipment this time), but for now there are only a hand full of people that have begun to dig through the rubble left behind by the firebombs.<p>

Thom waves at me and I wave back, calling out that I've left his wife a squirrel. He thanks me and gives me a genuine smile. I stop by Greasy Sae's and give her the turkey and a rabbit in exchange for some cheese and several sprigs of fresh herbs from her personal garden. Although supplies come in every two weeks from the other Districts, both Peeta and I prefer to trade in town when possible.

The road home is still covered with debris. Fortunately the bodies have already been gathered in the Meadow, and neither Peeta nor I could help in that effort. It was too painful. I make a mental note to come into town soon and help with the rebuilding.

Walking through the gate to the Victor's Village, I see Peeta's windows thrown open wide, letting in the beautiful day. I look at the sky and allow myself a small smile. It is late April and the weather is nice. Days like this are when I miss Prim the most, and it makes me physically ill to know that she'll never soak up the sun again.

I feel my mind starting to slip away, so I focus on the mass of geese roaming through the center circle of the Victor's Village. Haymitch is passed out on his front porch and I sigh. Those geese keep messing with Peeta's flowers, stomping on his little seedlings.

I automatically gravitate toward the scent of fresh bread coming from his kitchen. The door is already open and I don't knock; we've been beyond knocking for years now.

"We need to build a pen for those stupid geese," I grumble as I walk in, plopping down at the kitchen table. Parchment is already spread to protect the surface, a cutting board and knives waiting for me.

Peeta is bent down, exchanging pans in his oven. "Probably a good idea. The garden is suffering. I'm too afraid to try and plant anything edible, since it'll just go to waste at this point."

"Oh yeah. I got some cheese and herbs from Sae," I tell him, pulling them out of my pack and putting them on the table.

He stands and looks over my wares as I plop the first rabbit on the board. "These are nice," he says, picking up the bunches of leaves. I can see the excitement in his eyes as he thinks about all the things he can bake, and he begins gathering the familiar ingredients used to make my favorite snack. Peeta pretty much weaned me back to eating regularly with cheese buns, and now he makes them whenever we have fresh cheese.

We fall into a comfortable silence as he mixes ingredients without even measuring and I effortlessly clean both rabbits. He quickly chops up some vegetables and I cube some meat, throwing everything into a pot on the stove for dinner.

Now there is nothing to busy our hands, and we look at one another without really knowing what to do. But when have we ever known?

"Let's go to the back porch while we wait for the food," he offers and I nod.

The back porches of the houses in Victor's Village have become my favorite places, whether it is mine or Peeta's or on occasion even Haymitch's porch. They face out into the woods and they are the best place to sit on a warm spring evening, with their low chairs and wide awnings.

I plop down into a chair, my legs splayed everywhere. Peeta laughs as he sits next to me, and I frown. "What?" I ask, wondering what he could be teasing me about this time.

"If Effie saw you sitting like that, she would have a heart attack," he offers, and I just shrug. This just makes him laugh again, and I smile. It's nice to hear him laugh so freely. It was a while before either of us could laugh at all.

I'm not sure how to broach the subject that has been on my mind since I woke up naked in bed with him this morning. But I'm tired of always thinking about what I should say, so I just decide to talk. "Peeta. What are we doing?"

He looks confused for a moment, and I just blush. But, as per usual, he understands me better than I understand myself sometimes. "I dunno," he mumbles, and my heart sinks slightly. "Not that I regret it!" he quickly amends, both of us thinking back to last night. "I would never, ever regret that. Katniss, I love you. I've always loved you. I just want us to be happy together."

I look up at the awning, watching a spider slowly spin a delicate web in the corner. "Are we allowed to be happy?" I ask, and I realize that I have been holding on to this question since coming back to District 12.

His hand reaches out toward me and I automatically interlock my fingers with his. "It would be a dishonor to those who died to be miserable and waste the gift of life."

I look back to him, and he has a weary smile on his face. He has thought about this before too, I realize. Deep down I know that Prim would never want me to be unhappy, but the weight of the war and of loss is painful. "I... I'm not a good person." Peeta's mouth opens to interject, but I give him a look that makes him shut his mouth again. "I've done so many horrible things. Primarily to you," I add, a sardonic smile on my face. "So sometimes I don't understand why I'm still alive. I was the girl on fire, the mockingjay; why didn't I burn with the rebellion?"

"It doesn't matter," he says. "What matters is that you're alive, and I'm alive, and that we need to help build the world that they died to create."

"Prim didn't die for the good of the rebellion," I hiss, clenching his hand tightly. I feel the familiar heat of tears pressing behind my eyes, but I don't fight them. There is no point in hiding from Peeta anymore.

His thumb rubs my knuckles slowly. "No, she died trying to save lives. She knew the risk of going to the front lines, but she did it proudly because she believed in life and helping others above everything else. And she would want you to live and be happy," he says, reflecting my earlier thought.

"She would want me to be with you, right?" I ask, trying to lighten the mood as a tear slides down my cheek.

He leans over and wipes it away carefully, lifting my hand to his lips and kissing my fingers lightly. "Of course," he replies with a grin. Then his face falls into a more serious expression, his eyes fogging over in that way that tells me that he is remembering something. "She told me once... when she was helping me in District 13..." he says, closing his eyes as he tries to concentrate, "Prim told me that you loved me."

I can't help the broken laugh that escapes my lips. "She would! She would..."

"Did you?"

The question is difficult, and I decide to be as honest as possible. I've lied to Peeta enough. "I don't know," I reply. "After the hijacking I thought I had lost you. I thought the boy with the bread would never come back to me. And I didn't think that I could love you."

I look at him and see the pain in his eyes. The truth hurts more than the lie would have, I think, but there is no turning back now. I grip his hand tighter, bringing my other hand to rest over his. "Believe it or not, it was actually Haymitch that made me see how horrible I was treating you. He told me to reverse the situation and think about what you would do if I was in your position. And I knew. I knew that you would have never given up on me until I was okay again. And then I realized that everyone had been telling me to give you more of a chance, from Prim to Johanna, even Gale, in his own weird way.

"But back then, it wasn't about you and me. It was about the war, and the Capitol, and Snow, and Coin. Love wasn't on the table," I tell him, leaning down and pressing my forehead to our interlocked hands. The horror of the war is pressing against the back of my mind and I can't help but shiver in fear of the memories. "It was about survival," I practically choke out, a few more tears springing to my eyes. "I just wanted you to live. Maybe because I loved you, but mostly because you were – and still are – _my_ Peeta. You give me hope. Especially after... after Prim... I needed that hope more than anything."

"Katniss..." he mutters, his free hand weaving into my hair gently. He doesn't know what to say, and honestly, neither do I. We just sit there for few minutes and I silently let the tears drip on to our hands, letting myself feel the pain. Dr. Aurelius has told me multiple times that I have to let myself grieve, or I won't get better. So I'm trying. But it's still so damn hard.

I feel something welling in my chest. Something that is heartbreaking but warm at the same time, and my mind focuses on the fingers moving along my scalp. Comforting me, even though I know that he is hurting, too.

"I love you," I say for the second time today. The words don't erase the pain, but it lifts a little, and I feel like I can breathe again. "I love you, so much." It is getting easier to say each time.

I finally lift my head to look at him, only to find tears streaming down his face. "I love you too, Katniss," he mutters, moving his hands from mine to wipe the tears off of my face once again. His palms cup each side of my head and he pulls me close, kissing me gently. I can taste the salt on his lips and I sigh in contentment, allowing the pain to be forgotten. For now, at least.

After a moment I pull back, pressing my forehead against his. "This conversation went in a very different direction than I had intended," I tell him, and he chuckles.

"Come on, the soup is probably done," Peeta says, pulling me up with him as he stands. "Let's have dinner."

He slips the cheese buns in the hot oven and I set the table. We eat our soup and some bread that Peeta had baked that morning, and I find myself smiling for no reason. It's just simple, to be with him, doing mundane things. It's nice. After the hell we have been through, simple is nice.

After we do the dishes and eat the cheese buns for dessert we amble outside, finding Haymitch running around the central circle of Victor's Village through the flock of geese that call his yard their home. He is swinging a mostly empty bottle of white liquor at their heads, but since he is still very drunk, they dodge him easily. Two of them run into the backs of his legs, sending him sprawling to the grass. I want to just leave him there, but Peeta has that look in his eyes that says that he is about to be a good person, and I just sigh.

We drag Haymitch back to his house, plopping him on the couch that now sits on his porch. With the warm spring weather a constant now, he practically lives on his porch, sleeping on the couch nearly every night. Peeta says he just likes the fresh air, but I think that his house has finally become too vile for even him. We leave him there to pass out by himself and head back to my house.

"Wanna work on the book?" he asks, closing the door behind us. We pull off our shoes and leave them by the door, my dirty hunting boots next to his clean sneakers.

"Not tonight," I mutter, my mind too preoccupied with the present to think about the past at the moment. It's kind of nice, I realize. Plus I've thought enough about the past earlier today. It's too much.

"Peeta," I say, but then I stop. I don't know what I want him to tell me. We have been growing back together for months. Small kisses here and there, hugs, holding hands, sleeping in the same bed, but nothing like last night. And I'm confused, because I know that he loves me and I love him, but I don't know what that _means,_ and it makes me feel like I'm using him. Again.

"Katniss. We're together, and that's what matters," he says, and I'm still amazed at his ability to read my expressions. "I don't expect anything from you. Just... be with me, but only if that's what you want." I can tell that this is hard for him to say, and his smile is a bit subdued as he continues. "I love you, and I just want you to be happy."

My body is moving without my permission, but I don't try to stop myself as I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his chest. "You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real?" I whisper.

He remembers the words instantly and a true smile crosses his face. "Real," he replies. "Because that's what you and I do, protect each other."

My lips crash into his before he can even take a breath, and the same feeling I felt in the cave and on the beach and in my bed last night comes back to me, more intense than ever. His arms wrap around my body and hold me so close that my heels lift a few inches off the ground. My fingers dig into his back and I push my tongue into his mouth, because I need to taste him, to feel that all of this is real.

He responds by moaning and picking me completely up off the ground by grabbing my hips. I wrap my legs around his waist and he lugs me upstairs, moving his mouth to my neck so he can see where he is going and press kisses to my skin at the same time. I grin as he throws me on the bed, all the hesitations of last night forgotten.

Our first time was beautiful, but it was also awkward and full of pauses. He was so afraid of doing something that I didn't want and I was afraid of doing something wrong and we were both so shy and inexperienced. I didn't even really see him completely naked until this morning.

But now all the fear is forgotten. He moves over me, pulling my shirt off of my body with sparks in his eyes, and I realize that if I'm the girl on fire, he was the one to set me alight. My fire was for everyone, but his flame burns only for me, and I moan as his lips graze over my collarbones. His hands are already behind my back, fiddling with the clasp on my bra, and I laugh as his expression becomes disgruntled.

I lean forward and press my lips to his ears. "Want some help?" I whisper. He nods and pushes his face into the nook between my neck and shoulder, his tongue darting across my heated skin. I reach back and easily unclasp the restrictive garment. Peeta quickly throws it across the room and he wraps his arms around my shoulders. His face moves to nestle between my breasts for a moment before he presses a kiss to one of my nipples. Now he looks up to me, gauging my reaction, and I don't disappoint. My fingers dig into his hair and I pull him closer, my breath coming in harsh bursts. A lick sends my head tilting back and I moan.

Suddenly it isn't enough. I grab his shoulder and flip him on his back, pulling off his shirt quickly. My hands run over his chest, his ribs, his stomach, and I lean down to kiss him hard. His hands are on my hips, his fingertips resting just inside of the waistband of my hunting pants. I press down, grinding myself against his obvious erection, and we both gasp.

In the space of a moment he has pulled off my pants and I've pulled off his shorts, and then we're naked. Last night he had leaned over me, but now I'm on top, and I don't know what to do. "Katniss," he pants, his hands massaging my breasts gently, "you don't have to-"

And there he is, thinking of me. It's so very _Peeta _ that I can't help myself. I shift my hips and sink down on to him, moaning loudly as he fills me in a way that is different from last night. His mouth is hanging open and his hands drop to my hips, holding them lightly as his gaze travels over my body. Those blue eyes that I know so well are clouded over with lust and desire, and the heated look spurs me to move. I rock my hips forward gently, hissing between my teeth at the intense feeling of him so deep inside of me.

His fingers dig into my skin and he groans, his eyes glued to my body. Instead of making me uncomfortable, his attention make me feel sexy, and I move over him quicker and press my hands to his chest to keep my balance. "Katniss," he whispers, his voice rising to the ceiling like a prayer as he pulls me down for a kiss. His hand holds my hips in place as he flips me onto my back and pushes into me quickly.

The feeling is overwhelming and I wrap my legs around his waist to keep him close. He presses his forehead against my own and I stare into his eyes as he hits his climax, unable to look away. It takes my breath away to see the passion that only I can cause as he holds himself inside me for a moment, pressing kisses to my damp skin.

He grins at me. "Katniss," he sighs, nuzzling his face against my neck before moving down my body. My heart beats harder against my ribcage as he comes to rest between my legs, and his fingers and mouth quickly bring me to my limit.

My body arches off the bed and he holds my hips down, his name passing through my lips over and over again. It is overwhelming and leaves me limp and unable to move, and Peeta kisses his way back up my body to rest next to me. His head is on my shoulder and his arm is slung lazily over my hips. He kisses the top of my breast and broken "I love you"s float through the air, his breathing still ragged.

"I love you, too," is all I can say before my eyes close and I drift off into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

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><p>I wake later that night to the smell of freshly baked cookies wafting up the stairs. Wrapping a renegade bed sheet around my body, I roam downstairs to find Peeta pulling a baking sheet out of the oven in nothing but his boxers. It is a sight that I wouldn't expect to find so attractive, but it stirs something in me that I push away. My body is still tired, and the thought makes me blush.<p>

"Hey, you," he says as he looks over at me. "Cookies?"

I nod and shuffle over to sit at the table. "Why did you make cookies?"

"I wanted them," he answers simply, setting a plate of the cookies on the table before fetching two glasses and the bottle of milk from the refrigerator.

We eat the whole dozen together, sharing the milk and a few chocolate chip kisses here and there. After the snack we make our way back up to bed. I throw on a pair of shorts and a tank top before crawling under the blanket next to him, snuggling my head against his chest.

"Goodnight, Katniss. Love you," he mumbles sleepily, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head.

"Night, love you too," I reply, closing my eyes and yawning.

Even though we have come so far, we still have a long way to go. But I think it will be okay, as long as we are together, and this thought allows me to drift off to sleep again.


	2. Peeta: Images Of Her

Author's Note: This story will progress forward day by day until otherwise stated. I'm going to alternate between Katniss and Peeta's perspectives every other chapter. Please enjoy.

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><p>I wake up to her lips brushing lightly over my cheek.<p>

She's fully dressed with her bow clutched in her hand and her game bag hanging from her belt. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," she says, pushing my hair back off of my forehead. It's getting a bit long.

"It's okay," I mumble, sitting up slowly. The sun is just peaking over the horizon, pinkish light streaming in through the open window. "Should start baking anyway." For some reason the image of Katniss, who likes to believe herself to be tough as nails, softened in the rosy light is incredibly striking, even to my sleep-addled mind.

She just nods and gives me a small smile before leaving the room. The bed is still warm from where she was sleeping, and I grin. I didn't think she would ever reciprocate my feelings after our Hunger Games, and I had convinced myself that I was fine living like we were. But this is so much better.

I make the bed and head downstairs. Our houses are exactly the same, and I wonder if we should just live in one together. Katniss might not be ready for that step though. Was she even ready for the step we did take? I don't know, honestly. I don't even know if _I_ was ready. We are both still tormented by horrible dreams that have been blissfully absent the past two nights, but I know that it won't last.

Heading over to my house, I see Haymitch still sprawled out on his porch, the geese roaming all over the Victor's Village. Katniss is right, we do need to make some sort of fence. My kitchen is set up specifically for baking, and I get started immediately. I've been delivering loaves to the families in the District for a month now. It had been Dr. Aurelius' suggestion, and the baking has helped me relax quite a bit.

The trackerjacker venom will never completely leave my system. It is a hard reality to face, but there isn't anything that can be done. What the Capitol injected in me was specifically designed for permanent hijacking, so I'll be haunted by shiny memories for the rest of my life. There have been attacks and violent moments, but Katniss is patient and helps me find reality with the 'real or not real' game. I try not to ask a lot, because I know the wounds are still fresh for her too, but she's the only one who can answer some questions. Haymitch helps a little - when he's sober, anyway.

As the amount of families in the District grow, it is getting more difficult to keep up with fresh bread every morning. I know they don't expect it, but seeing the look in their eyes when they have the warm loaves in their hands makes it all worth while. I know that I'll have to reopen the bakery to keep up my production, especially since more people are returning every week on the train. But it's difficult. Shells of firebombed buildings still line every street, and just the thought of the destroyed bakery makes my chest feel cold.

I've been there once, right after coming back to the District. There was hardly anything left. I was in a hijacked rage for a full day afterward. Haymitch had to lock me in my basement because all I wanted to do was strangle Katniss for destroying everything. I never told her about this particular episode. I know she still blames herself, and it isn't fair. It was the Capitol. It was always the Capitol.

I have six loaves of bread by mid morning. I cut them in half and wrap them in cloth, piling them all in a large basket. It smells heavenly and I almost regret that I have to waste one on Haymitch, but if we didn't feed him he probably wouldn't eat.

He's still on his porch, of course, but now he's awake. His yellowed eyes watch the geese with a disgruntled expression, and the idea containing them reenters my mind. "Hey," I call, and he greets me with a grunt. "Katniss and I are going to build a pen for the geese."

"Good. Damned things are driving me crazy."

I roll my eyes. "You like things that drive you crazy," I say, thrusting the warm bread into his hands.

He opens it and rips the bread apart, shoveling it into his mouth in large chunks. "Explains why I still deal with you two," he grumbles.

"Watch out. I have Effie Trinket's phone number. Bet I could convince her to visit you," I threaten, laughing at the pure fear in my old mentor's eyes.

"The girl and her evil are rubbing off on you." This makes me laugh even harder and makes Haymitch pop the top off of a fresh bottle of white liquor.

"We'll be around later," I tell him, and he stands as I leave. Probably to go chase the geese again. I don't know why he does it, considering they haven't left once since they arrived.

The bread is still warm when I reach the first house. Greasy Sae gives me a big smile as she hands the loaf to her granddaughter. "How is Katniss?" she asks.

"Good," I tell her, and this time I actually mean it. "She hasn't had a bad day in a week and a half."

She nods, a wide smile on her wrinkled face. I can never repay Greasy Sae enough for taking care of Katniss while I was still in the Capitol, though I know she doesn't expect anything. The people that have come back to District 12 don't see her as the Mockingjay – they see her as Katniss Everdeen, the grumpy hunter girl that needs to be looked after every now and then. We are just their young neighbors and I could never be grateful enough for their kindness.

I make my rounds, assuring people that I don't need anything in return for the bread, when I stumble upon Thom. He is always bustling around the District, trying to organize the rebuilding. I think President Paylor has put him in charge, at least for now. "How's it going?" I ask.

"Pretty good." Thom wipes the sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand, already working with a small group of other men to move some of the debris. "We've just gotten word that some machinery will be delivered from District 2 this weekend. You know, to help with the clean up. We can't build new with all the old pieces still lying around."

"I actually wanted to talk to you about that." I tell him about my desire to rebuild the bakery, and he is all for the idea. We makes plans to get together tomorrow to work on a building plan, and I make my way to the wreckage that I've been avoiding for these past months. There is hardly anything left. I take a deep breath, fighting off the shiny memories that are pushing into my mind. While I search for anything salvageable, I think about concrete things: Haymitch chasing his geese, the look on Greasy Sae's granddaughter's face when I gave her a cookie last week, Buttercup chasing a mouse in my living room, the feeling of Katniss' body beneath mine.

I find an old pan, a cracked tea kettle, my oldest brother's harmonica, and my father's favorite cookie tin. Putting these things in my now empty bread basket, I make my way quickly back to the Victor's Village, feeling a storm of threatening emotions welling up in my chest. Haymitch apparently saw me, because I see him jogging over to my house out of the corner of my eye.

The basket hits the table hard and I grip the kitchen counter, pressing my eyelids closed. Everything is alternating between shiny and dull, and I can't tell the difference anymore. Then Katniss is there, her face contorted with rage, setting fire to the bakery. I see my father's face in the window as the building is blown to pieces, and Katniss is cackling, laughing at the blood running from the disaster, and it's all her fault, the mutt-

"Hey!" Haymitch yells, and I look up at him. He helped her. He chose the mutt over me and now everyone is dead. "Get in the basement, before she gets back!"

He grabs my collar with a surprising amount of strength and tosses me through the door and slams it shut. I know deep down that he is right, and I need to ride out the attack. The door lock clicks and I reach into my pocket. Dr. Aurelius sent the pills after my first major attack after coming back. They calm me, keeping me from hurting anyone else and myself while I'm lost in shiny memories. I still like to be in the basement though, just in case.

I dry swallow the pills and make my way down the stairs, sitting in the ragged arm chair that Katniss helped me put down here last month. She doesn't like that I lock myself in, but she also understands that I could never live with myself if I tried to kill her again.

The burning bakery is still etched into my eyelids, but I know that it isn't real. I hear their screams, see the skin melting from my mother's face, see my brother's bodies burned to a crisp, and I cry and scream, and even though it's shiny and false, it doesn't go away. I still see her there, the girl on fire, her body alight in glorious flames that do nothing but enhance the shadows on her face, and try to keep real thoughts of her in my mind. It is a struggle, but the flames eventually go away, allowing my mind to go blank.

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><p>I don't know how much time has passed when I finally become aware of reality again. "Peeta?" someone calls from the stairs. "Are you okay now?"<p>

It's Katniss. I stand, my leg a bit stiff from being curled up on the chair, and make my way up the stairs. "Yeah, I'm okay now," I tell her, and she unlocks the door without hesitation.

Her eyes are wide and she pulls me into her arms quickly. "Thom told me that you went to the bakery. I was worried."

My hands rest on her hips lightly, and I press my forehead into her shoulder. She smells like pine and fresh air, and I let my eyes close and just concentrate on her. My Katniss. Not a mutt. Not a bloodthirsty murderer.

"I want to build a new one," I say after a moment.

She nods and lets me be silent for a moment before pulling back to look at my face. "I think that's a good idea," she says. "You need a bigger place if you want to keep baking bread for everyone. And you'll need to start charging. They don't want charity."

"I know, but I don't need anything."

Katniss shrugs and spreads out her animal cleaning station. She has a squirrel and a grouse today, already skinned and plucked bare. "They need to feel like real people again, though."

I can understand this. Sometimes I still don't feel like a real person, especially on days like today when I let the trackerjacker venom get the best of me. Her hand runs along my shoulders lightly before she takes her knife to her game, breaking them up into usable chunks. "My prices will be low," I say, pulling the untouched bread basket toward me. "And I'll give away cookies."

"As long as you charge them for something."

Her hands move confidently with the meat, and it's fascinating and a little horrifying that she's so at ease with the blade in her hand. I feel the shiny version of her trying to crawl back into my mind, but I push it away and focus on the things I recovered from the bakery. Katniss doesn't ask questions as I lovingly rinse each item in the sink. The pan can still be used, so I put it in the cupboard. The kettle is too cracked to hold any liquid, but I set it on the stove next to the kettle I use every day. The harmonica doesn't work anymore, but it is still in one piece and I put it on the mantle in the living room.

The cookie tin is next. It's a relic from my childhood that I had nearly forgotten. My father always had free cookies for the children in the tin before my mother cracked down on the budget when I started secondary school. It used to sit on the counter, a simple circular container with a delicate floral design on the sides. Father told me in secret that it had been a gift from Katniss' mother, when they were still friends. I put it up on the windowsill and decide that it will go in my new bakery, too.

"Hey, scoot over," Katniss says, bumping her hip against mine to make room at the sink. I turn on the hot water for her and watch her scrub away the blood and gore, knowing that the game is now sitting immaculately butchered on the table. We pack up the meat and put it in the refrigerator to cook later and head over to Haymitch's house.

"I regret thinking about this," Katniss grumbles, and I chuckle. Haymitch is sitting in the center of the road, the whole flock of geese sitting around him. They honk and quickly scatter as we approach.

"You in your right mind now, boy?" he asks around the bottle at his mouth.

"Yeah. Thanks for helping me."

He just burps in reply. Katniss sighs and we each grab an arm and drag him to the side of his house. "This is where we're gonna build the pen," she tells him, and he nods in agreement.

"We'll order the supplies and work on it after the next train," I add, though Haymitch is starting to drift toward the porch.

We follow him and he plops down on the couch, picking up another bottle of liquor. The geese surge back to the yard and start settling around his house, and the strange relationship between Haymitch and the birds boggles my mind. "We'll bring over dinner later," I say, grabbing Katniss' arm and going back to her house.

"I don't want to help him," she complains, crossing her arms as I look up Effie's phone number. A month ago I put up a list of phone numbers on the wall, though Katniss never uses her phone without me forcing the receiver into her hands.

"We need to get those geese under control," I tell her, and she knows that I'm right. I push the long string of numbers that connects me to the Capitol.

"Hello!" a chirpy voice answers.

"Hey, Effie."

"Peeta!" she squeals. "What can I do for you, dear?"

I grin at Katniss and she rolls her eyes. Effie has been a huge help to me, able to put in orders to be sent here from the Capitol. Otherwise I'd have to use a magazine ordering system that would take weeks to get anything delivered. Effie has certain things sent every week, like baking supplies and liquor for Haymitch, and I just need to call and she'll add anything I can imagine to the list. Charged to my bottomless bank account, of course. "Can you send me one hundred feet of chicken wire?"

"Chicken... wire?"

"Just trust me."

I hear some clicking on the other side and I can practically see the look of confusion on Effie's face as she types 'chicken wire' into her electronic catalog. "Oh! There is such a thing! And it's not made out of chickens!"

Her genuine amazement at the wire makes me smile. "I'm building a pen. Haymitch is collecting geese."

"Oh, how unsanitary," she huffs. Effie is quiet for a moment before continuing, her voice soft. "Is he doing okay?"

"Still stuck at the bottom of a bottle," I tell her, looking over to where Katniss is eating an apple in the kitchen. "I don't think that will ever change."

"He's going to kill himself with that liquor."

It's the most serious I've ever heard Effie, and it's a little heartbreaking. "I know. But he has no other way to live."

"Maybe I'll visit sometime."

"Honestly, he'd probably like it. I've heard him arguing with his geese when he doesn't think anyone is listening. I think he misses you."

Her laugh is like electric wind chimes, lilting and a bit unnatural. She misses him, too. "Sure, sure," she sighs. "I've ordered the wire, it'll be on the Saturday train with the usual things. Can I get you anything else, dear?"

"Not right now. How is everything going in the Capitol?"

"Oh, it's so stressful!" she bursts. "President Paylor is facing some resistance from Capitol residents. I admit, our lifestyles have changed, but it's for the good of the country!" At that moment I'm incredibly proud of how far Effie has come since our Reaping. "I mean, I haven't had a new wig in a month! How torturous is that? But it's all worth it!"

I roll my eyes but can't help smiling. "Well, I appreciate your help, Effie."

"You're doing okay, Peeta?" she ask, her voice concerned.

"Yes. Better than ever," I tell her, and it's true. Katniss quirks her eyebrow and I smile.

"Good! Well, call if you ever need any little thing!"

"Thanks, Effie. You really should come visit sometime."

"I'll work on it! Bye, dear!"

"Bye Effie."

I walk back over to Katniss, wrapping my arms around her waist. "I know that you spent time with her while you were still in the Capitol, but you don't have to talk to her so... _familiarly_."

The tone of her voice and the twitching of her eyes reveals everything, and I chuckle. "Katniss Everdeen, are you jealous?"

Her face lights up in a pretty pink and she sputters. "I am _not_ jealous of Effie flipping Trinket!" she declares, crossing her arms.

It's so adorable that I can't help but kiss her. Her lips are chapped and thin, but her kisses are what kept me alive in the Games. Even when she never meant to, she gave me hope and a reason to keep going, no matter the cost. She still has no idea about the effect she has on people.

Her mouth opens to me, and a lazy peel of heat travels down my spine. My hands move up her body, passing over her ribs and the sides of her breasts, causing her to gasp. Her reactions always drive me forward, because it's so rare to see Katniss enjoy herself. My lips leave hers and I move my face to her neck, pressing my mouth against the delicate skin. She is covered with burns, peeling skin, and scars, but she has always been beautiful to me.

She throws her arms around my neck and hops up on to the kitchen counter, wrapping her legs around my waist. It's very bold of her and I know what she wants me to do. Katniss has always been a woman of action, and I don't need her words to know what she is communicating. My hands slip down her back and cup her bottom, pulling her closer.

I'm still a bit embarrassed at how quickly she gets me excited, but she smirks with satisfaction as she feels me hard against her thigh. Her confidence spurs me forward and I pull her shirt off and start fumbling with her bra again. I'm going to understand how these stupid things work someday. She takes pity on me again and unclasps it, and I toss the garment to the side, my mouth automatically finding one of her nipples.

Katniss moans and her fingers dig into my hair, pulling me closer. I love the feeling of her hands shaking against the back of my head as I swirl my tongue around lightly. She nearly slips off of the counter as she gasps, jerking her hips forward. I catch her and cart her off to the living room, plopping her down on the couch.

She is splayed out in her unladylike way, legs akimbo and a blush reaching down her neck and across her collarbones, and she is radiant. I wish that I could paint a picture of this moment, but I think Katniss would probably skewer me with her arrows if I did. So I take a mental picture and dive on to her, my lips on her ribs as I pull off her pants. She is snickering, because Katniss Everdeen _never_ giggles, and I tug off her underwear. I'm kneeling on the ground in front of her, her legs resting on either side of my body, and seeing her looking so free makes my heart leap into my throat.

My hands snake up her thighs and she moans. I lick my lips lightly before I bring them to her, and she cries out in pleasure. I silently thank my brothers and their perverted minds, because otherwise I'd be incredibly lost as to what to do at this point. My tongue flicks over her most sensitive spot and her hips arch up against my mouth.

"Peeta..." she groans, grabbing at my shoulders, and I know what she wants. I tug off my shirt while she unbuttons my pants, and I kick the rest of my clothes off. We are both naked and I'm amazed at how many times I've found myself in this position over the past three days. Sometimes it's easy to forget that although we're survivors of the war and mentally damaged, we're also horny teenagers.

I get on my knees and pull her to the edge of the couch, sinking into her quickly. She gasps and her hands find my wrists, holding them against her hips as I rock into her slowly. Her eyes are hungry and begging me to go faster, but I can already feel myself getting close. I really hope my stamina will increase as time goes by, though I know that she really doesn't mind.

"Don't hold back," she practically growls, unable to muster her usual scowl. Instead she chews on her lip and pushes her hips forward, and I press a kiss to her sternum and pick up the pace. I adjust her hips to a higher angle and she gasps loudly, her hands flying out and grabbing on to the couch. Her eyes roll back slightly and I feel her hips shaking. "Peeta," she breathes, and I can tell that she's close. I move a hand down between us, brushing my thumb against her, and she reacts so strongly that after only a few more seconds she is falling apart in my hands, her cries pushing me to the edge.

I fall on her chest, panting as my heart tries to slow itself down to a normal pace. Her hands are in my hair, combing through it slowly, and I smile against her skin. A pang shoots through my left leg and I quickly pull myself up on to the couch. "You okay?" she breathes, her eyes wide.

"I'm okay. Leg hurts," I reply, and she nods. I'm fairly used to my false leg now, but sometimes extra stress can make it hurt a bit. Her hand moves to rest on my thigh, and I flinch. No one besides a doctor has touched it before, but I let her fingertips dance across the seam that separates my flesh from the cool plastic. The motion is calming and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.

"It's amazing," she mutters. "Capitol technology is good for some things, I guess."

"Hopefully it'll have more practical uses in the near future," I reply, watching the sky light up with my favorite color of orange. She curls up to my side and drapes her legs across my lap, and I run my fingers along her thigh. Her skin is still smooth and hairless, and I wonder if the Capitol did to her what they did to me – a long lasting hair removal treatment. Portia told me that I wouldn't grow facial hair until I was twenty-five. I guess it saves time on shaving, but the choice of having a beard until then has been taken away from me. The Capitol will continue to haunt us, even though the Games are over.

The moment is interrupted by a loud grumbling coming from her stomach. She looks at me sheepishly and I laugh. "Let's have some dinner," I say, and she nods her head in agreement.

We dress and I head back to my house while she goes to collect Haymitch. The squirrel is already cut thinly, so I heat up a pan and fry them for a moment, tossing together a quick salad on the side. I'm slicing bread when the two most important people in my life come fumbling through the door, cursing at one another in hushed tones. They wear the exact same scowl and with their Seam looks, they look like they could be related.

"Thought you were _bringing_ me dinner," Haymitch grumbles, plopping down at the table and crossing his arms. Apparently Katniss wouldn't let him bring his alcohol and he's even more grumpy than usual.

"I'm surprised that you even remember us visiting, you drunk," Katniss hisses.

"Oh, calling me a drunk! How hurtful."

She scowls and sits across from Haymitch, her eyes shooting daggers into his forehead. Of course, he just ignores her and stares at the squirrel cooking in the pain. The silence is a bit oppressive, so I decide to try to start a conversation. "I've ordered some wire," I tell Haymitch, turning the squirrel over in the pan. "With some wooden stakes from town, we should be able to make a great pen for the geese."

Haymitch just scoffs. "They'll figure out how to get out. Smart birds. _They'd_ have probably survived the Games."

"If we build you this pen and I find a single bird in our yards, I'll be cooking it for dinner," Katniss says in a tone that speaks to her determination.

Their mentor raises his eyebrow, and Peeta knows that Haymitch isn't stupid. He knows that she is serious. "Fuckin' annoying girl," he mutters, his hand twitching to be around the bottle that Katniss made him leave on his porch.

I plate up the squirrel and the salad, putting a loaf of bread in the middle of the table. The meal is quiet and I've given up on talking. The two of them are so much alike, both people of action and of few words. It makes a talkative person like me a bit crazy sometimes. And Katniss wonders why I like talking to Effie.

As soon as his plate is clean, Haymitch stomps off to his porch without a 'thank you'. Not that I expected one. Katniss, however, shows her gratitude through a kiss on the cheek and by doing up the dishes. I watch her scrub the pan for a moment before moving into the living room. An easel is set up by the window, and I quietly begin mixing paint and let my mind drift back to this morning. I see Katniss, her choppy braid tossed over her shoulder, her hunting jacket rumbled, bathed in soft light and pink hues.

She blooms across the canvas, her smile sleepy and subtly affectionate. The gray of her eyes is hard to mix, and I've encountered issues in the past trying to create the perfect color. I layer color over color until I have it as close to accurate as I can manage.

I'm not sure how much time passes before I realize that Katniss is standing behind me. "Is that how you see me?" she asks. It's a question that I've heard before, since she can never believe that she is as beautiful in real life as she is in my paintings. She's more than I can capture on a canvas, and I can't explain to her how there is something so ineffable about her and that no painting can do her justice. But she has never been able to see herself properly.

"Yes," I answer simply.

She nods and kisses the top of my head, sitting on the couch and turning on the television. I continue painting while she finds the news.

"-District 7!" a familiar voice blares, and I turn to see Johanna Mason on the screen. "The lumber industry is becoming safer for it's workers, and we hope to have the paper mill up and running to full capacity by next week."

"She looks good," Katniss says, and I agree. Her hair has grown out to her ears and her eyes are as sharp as ever. It looks like she opted for a skin cleansing after the war, because she is free of scars or burns. She looks healthy and confident, like she should look.

"District 7 should be proud to have such an amazing representative!" the reporter declares, causing Johanna's smile to widen. "So, Ms. Mason, what have you been doing in your own life?"

"I've been dividing my time between District 7, traveling, government meetings, and District 4."

"Why District 4?" the reporter asks. I have a feeling I know why, but Johanna would never say her name on television.

"I'm working with the fishing industry to make it more efficient and worker friendly, like I am with the lumber industry in District 7," she answers, and I can see the glee in her eyes. She loves having her secrets, just like Katniss and myself.

"I wonder how Annie is doing with the baby?" Katniss asks.

"We should call."

"Yeah."

"There you have it folks!" the reporter says. "Live, from District 7, Miranilla Casstala out!"

"Thanks, Miranilla!" a news caster says from a desk in a garishly decorated studio. He begins talking about some fashion trend involving feathers, so I turn back to my painting and tune the television out, focusing on the wood grain of Katniss' hunting bow.

We stay like this for an hour. Katniss quickly gets bored of the news and turns to a show about the wildlife of District 6, and I hear strange animal calls every now and again. When the program goes off I turn to find her asleep, draped over the arm of the couch. I put down my paints and yawn, deciding that it's time for bed.

I clean my brushes thoroughly in the kitchen sink before collecting Katniss in my arms and making my way upstairs. She wakes up on the way and teases me for a fleck of pink paint on my cheek.

Our clothes have become split between our two houses, and she changes into shorts and a tank top, her usual pajamas. I take off my pants and climb into bed, my arms wide to accept Katniss as she climbs in soon after. She so tired that she falls asleep quickly, and I watch her for so long that her eyelids begin twitching with dreams and she begins drooling on my shoulder. I hope that her dreams are good ones as I look out the window and watch the stars twinkle until I drift off to sleep.


	3. Katniss: Instant Dislike

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for the reviews! I'm really enjoying writing these chapters and it makes it even better to know that you're all enjoying reading them as well. It will continue to be slow paced, because I really want to examine these amazing characters in depth. Please enjoy.

* * *

><p>There she is, right in front of me. Her hand is reaching toward me, and I push forward, trying to grab her. Something bad is happening, I can feel it all the way down to my toes.. My name is on her lips, but I can't get close enough before everything is red and orange and hot.<p>

Pale skin turns to ash and her face contorts, slowly transforming into a reptilian mutt that is unrecognizable. Except for those blue eyes. Prim's eyes.

She comes at me with claws and bloody teeth, and I hear her screams all around me. The landscape is still exploding and I can't run far enough to escape, and I don't think I deserve to live anyway. This is all my fault.

The claws dig into my face, and I'm screaming and shaking and the world is falling apart-

"Katniss!"

My eyes spring open and blue eyes are looming over me. I scream again, pushing and struggling, but strong arms are wrapped around my body and refuse to let go. "Katniss, sweetheart, it's okay. It's okay," a soft voice whispers in my ear.

Peeta. I'm crying before I can even blink, and my body goes limp. "Prim... fire... mutts..." I wheeze as an explanation, my throat dry from screaming.

He just keeps nuzzling the side of my face and whispering calming words in my ear until my breathing returns to normal. I'm sweating, I realize, and when he gets up to get me a glass of water I pull off my shirt and my shorts. It's too warm, even with the window open.

"Here," he says, helping me sit up and pressing the cool glass to my hand. I gulp down the whole thing quickly. The nightmare is still right at the edge of my mind and I know that I won't find sleep again tonight. I look at the clock. Nearly five in the morning, only an hour until sunrise.

"I'm going to take a shower," I tell him, climbing out of bed. "I won't be able to sleep again."

Peeta nods groggily and watches me throw off my underwear before laying back down and drifting off to sleep. The tile floor of the bathroom makes me shiver and I turn the water on as hot as it can go. It takes a moment to heat up, so I unravel my braid while I wait. My hair at its longest only reaches to my shoulder blades. Some parts of my scalp are just starting to grow hair again, some of it only falls to my ears. The ends are still slightly singed. I'll ask Peeta to even out my hair later.

The shower is steaming so I climb in and hiss as the hot water hits my tender flesh. It's still sore even after nearly six months. But I also haven't been using the proper skin cream, so there's that. The water beats against my head and I let the tears flow, letting all the pain leak out of my eyes. Prim's burning body dissolves in the water, and I wait until my mind goes blank. I concentrate on the water hitting my skin and go through a breathing exercise that Peeta taught me a few weeks ago.

It works. I continue with my shower, washing my hair quickly. The air is cold when I step out and it's invigorating. I'm wide awake by the time I've dried off and dressed. Peeta is still sleeping, and I sit on the edge of the bed and look at him for a minute. His face is so calm and warm. I imagine this is how he looked as a child, since I really can't remember. It makes me feel kind of bad, considering he remembers so much about me when I was a kid. I push his hair back and kiss his forehead before heading down stairs.

Since I've already showered, I decide not to hunt today. Besides, after my dream I really don't feel like going out alone. I pull some of the grouse I got yesterday out of the fridge and toss a bit in a pan. The sizzling of the fatty meat makes my mouth water as I crack a few eggs, hoping to greet Peeta with breakfast. He takes care of me so much, and I can admit that I'm not a naturally considerate person. So I'm going to try, for him.

His footsteps are heavy on the stairs just as the sun is rising over the treeline. Peeta stops at the kitchen entrance, blinking slowly as he looks at me. "I figured you would be hunting," he says, coming over to stand behind me as I move the eggs around in the pan.

"What? Want me to leave?" I tease, though my voice still sounds haggard and gruff.

In response he kisses my neck and wraps his arms around my waist. I finish cooking with his chin resting on my shoulder. We eat breakfast and wash the dishes before speaking again, allowing Peeta enough time to wake up properly.

"Will you cut my hair?" I ask. "I just want to even it out a little."

"Sure," Peeta says, his fingers weaving into the wet strands. "Come into the bathroom."

I grab a stool and he grabs a pair of sharp scissors. The ground floor bathroom is so small that Peeta is standing in the doorway as he combs my hair out straight. "Just... get rid of the burned parts."

He nods and I watch him in the mirror. His eyes take on the look they do when he paints, and I'm entranced as he carefully gathers my hair and snips off the ends with a steady hand. The swishing sound of the metal scissors is relaxing and he is done all too soon. "There you go," he says, smiling at me in the mirror.

My hands come up and feel my hair, and it actually feels slightly healthier. I turn my head and press a kiss to his cheek and lean back against his chest. He wraps his arms around my waist again and I look at the two of us in the mirror. We're both scarred and burned, but we match, so it's okay. When I look at Peeta, I don't see imperfection – I see sacrifice, history, heartache, and pure love. Our scars show where we have been and how far we've come. They're a constant reminder of what we have gained and what we have lost.

The nightmare comes back to my mind and I sigh. "What are we doing today?"

Peeta smiles. "I want to start working on plans for the new bakery with Thom."

"Can I go?" I ask, feeling bad for pushing myself into his plans, but I can admit to myself that I just don't want to leave him today.

"Of course!" he replies, pressing a kiss to my temple. "I'd love your input."

It's still early so Peeta goes back to his painting from the previous night and I sharpen my arrows. I turn on the television, not expecting much on, since most people in the Capitol still don't wake up before noon. There is a program on about new technology being developed in District 3 to mechanically pick certain kinds of fruits and vegetables in District 11. I think of Rue and Thresh, and how maybe Rue's siblings won't have to work long days in the hot fields anymore. If they're still alive now after the war, anyway.

After about an hour Peeta tells me that his painting is finished. I'm shocked when I look over because the woman in the painting looks like some sort of glowing dawn angel. Every color is blended with a beautiful soft pink and he captured the rays of morning light perfectly. I refuse to believe that I looked like this yesterday morning, but he has captured the details of my appearance so perfectly that it could never be mistaken for anyone besides me. "It's amazing," I breathe. I can't think of anything more poetic and I wish for a moment that I had his gift with words so I could give him the reaction that he deserves.

Peeta smiles and sighs. "It's how I see you, you know," he says.

"It's nice to see you paint something more recent," I reply softly.

His expression falls slightly and I instantly feel bad. Most of the pieces he has painted in the past few months have been of the war. I haven't been able to look at them. Peeta understands. I know it's how he finds reality and I encourage him to keep painting. I hope that I can look at them someday and we can openly talk about our time in both of our Games and on the 451 Star Squad, because there are things that should never be forgotten. "I'm able to stay in the present a lot more lately."

I just nod because I can relate. My nightmare this morning was the first this week, and I don't know if it's because I'm getting better or if the extreme change in my relationship with Peeta has been a temporary distraction from the pain.

"I think Thom will be in town now," Peeta says after a moment. "Ready to head out?"

We put on our shoes and leave the house, our fingers intertwined. I can hear Haymitch still snoring on his porch and the geese are roaming in and out of his house at their leisure. Peeta laughs and I scoff. What a useless man. It's hard to remember sometimes that the rebellion wouldn't have happened without him. Hell, Peeta and I wouldn't be alive at all without him.

Thom is waiting for Peeta inside of the temporary worker's tent. He greets me with a smile, spreading a large sheet of blueprint paper out on a table. The two men begin discussing square footage and I'm already bored. I wander a few yards out of the tent and find an unfamiliar man flipping through a folder of paperwork. He sees me and a strange expression briefly crosses his face before he smiles and sticks a hand out toward me.

"Hey there! Name's Franc." I instantly don't care for Franc. It's something about the way he is looking at me, I think. He definitely knows who I am and it makes me uncomfortable.

I know that Peeta and Dr. Aurelius would tell me to be polite, so I put my hand in his. His palm is sweaty and I try my hardest not to scowl. "Katniss Everdeen," I tell him.

He just nods, because he obviously already knew my name. "I'm from District 6, here to look at transportation issues."

"Well, the rubble in the streets is probably the biggest problem," I tell him, trying to hide my sarcasm with a blank stare.

He lets out a loud belly laugh, his face lighting up at my bad joke. "You'd be right there, Missy!" I immediately hate this term of endearment from a man that I've never previously met. "Next week some machines will be sent in to clear away the rubble, then the rebuilding can really begin. For my own part, I'll be looking at reorganizing the roads, along with the general layout of the town. Plus with the medicine factory going in soon, the supply routes will need to be planned."

I just nod. I don't really want to talk to his stranger, but I'm actually very interested in what he has to say. "What about the coal mines?" I blurt out, not really wishing to be in a conversation with him.

"Well, I don't know much about them mines, but I'll be working on safer coal transport methods as well. It'll take quite a bit of time to get that mine stabilized properly, so it's on the bottom of my priority list for now," Franc tells me.

I have mixed feelings about the mine reopening. The revenue and jobs created will definitely help the District, but the memory of the mine collapse still haunts me, though it has some pretty stiff competition at this point in my life. I decide that later I'll ask around to see who might know more about the safety features. "It was nice meeting you," I say, ending the conversation bluntly. I was polite earlier, so I think it balances itself.

Franc just tips his hat and turns back to his stack of papers. I scurry away, tired of interaction with strangers for a while, and return to the tent. "There you are!" Peeta calls when I enter, and I approach the table.

They have a rough sketch in the works, and the excitement in Peeta's eyes makes my heart feel warmer. "How's it going?" I ask.

"Great! The bakery will be in the same location, but the plan will be completely different. More space, for one, and a bigger kitchen that can handle more ovens so I can make more bread. A pastry station," he says, point to a part of the drawing, "will be here, and a station specifically for icing cakes will be over here!" His finger moves, and I can't stop the smile on my face.

"This is great," I tell him.

"Do you have any suggestions?" Thom asks. "We're still in the early planning stages, so there's plenty of time for changes."

I look down at the paper and I can already see it in my mind. It'll be a warm building, in temperature and atmosphere. The walls will be painted in vibrant colors and the smell of bread and icing will ingrain itself into every piece of furniture. Shiny display cases will hold Peeta's beautiful cakes and pastries. There will be a long counter and Peeta will have a cash drawer, mainly for appearances, considering he won't want to charge anyone for anything. Cookies will be thrust into the hands of every child that walks through the door. The kitchen will be large and clean, and Peeta's indomitable spirit will draw the inhabitants of the District inside on a daily basis.

"A display case in the window," I say after a moment, a memory interrupting my visions of the future. I can still feel her little hand in mine as if she dragged me to the bakery window as if it were yesterday. "She always loved seeing the cakes from the street."

Peeta, of course, understands and nods in agreement, a warm smile on his face. Thom knows not to ask and just adds display cases in the windows on the drawing. The men continue discussing things about the actual building – what materials to use, the size of the refrigeration unit, a second floor that could be rented to a family. Peeta is generally always in a good mood, but it's nice to see him with a sense of purpose.

I don't really have much purpose, besides hunting. Fresh meat is important, especially since we don't have a town butcher yet, so the people need protein. Until the rebuilding begins and a proper market is put in place, the handful of families in town rely on Greasy Sae, Peeta, me, and weekly Capitol shipments to stay fed. It's enough for now, at least.

I leave the tent again for some fresh air, glad to see that Franc has left. The town is still a mess, the people living in the few houses that weren't completely destroyed in the firebombing. I feel a stirring in my chest that is different from the way Peeta makes me feel, but nearly as unfamiliar. I think it's excitement, and not the nervous kind. I'm actually excited to see how the District will be rebuilt. I make a mental note to tell Dr. Aurelius about this moment during our weekly phone call. He'll be so proud.

Along with the happiness is the terror that it could all be flattened again. Not that I don't trust Paylor. If I had been in the right state of mind to pick anyone as a President, it probably would have been her. She isn't politically trained and when she speaks it is from the heart. Panem needs someone like her to push us forward into a new era of peace.

"Are you the Mockingjay?"

This question instantly sets me on edge, and I don't even know who asked yet. I turn, finding a young woman dressed in a bright pink pants suit. Her hair is tightly curled and was probably pure white before she arrived in the District. Now its gray tinged. If I wasn't so busy scowling I would laugh at her. "I'm Katniss Everdeen," I answer neutrally.

She screams in joy and starts hopping up and down, and I sincerely hope that one of her high heels break on the gravel. This is just not my day. "I'm so so _so_ excited to meet you! You're, like, my hero!"

Her arms wrap around me in an awkward embrace. Instead of hitting her, I close my eyes and count backwards from one hundred until she lets go. I stop at sixty-four. She is looking me over and I just stare at her, still frowning deeply.

"I'm Varinia Spark!" she tells me. "I'm here from the Capitol to work on organization and budgeting of the rebuild!"

I suddenly wish that I was still talking to Franc. This woman is going to shape the future of District 12? I hold back a sigh. "Do you know anything about the mines?" I ask, because I still want to know.

"Oh, of course I do! Anything for the girl on fire!" she winks, and I try to remember that punching her will only hurt me in the long run. "Let's see..." Varinia takes a Capitol device from her bag and begins tapping on the screen. It looks like the organizer that Effie used during the games, but the screen is larger, about the size of a book. "It looks like the mine repair won't begin until June. Engineers are working on stability plans and safety features to make sure it's in tip top shape!" she squeaks, and I'm surprised that she actually seems competent. "There are also designs in the works to make as much of the processes mechanical as possible, along with proper breathing equipment and protective gear."

I'm glad to hear that they're working on improving the mines, but I still remember the old District 12. The Capitol didn't care about the mines then, and it's difficult for me to really believe that they'll care about them now. But I know that Paylor is doing her best, and I decide to wait and see what will happen. "Thanks," I say begrudgingly, because even though her appearance is completely ridiculous, she gave me the information I had wanted.

"Always happy to help the Mockingjay!" she squeals. "I can't wait to tell my friends that I met you! Will you take a picture with me?"

I immediately turn on my heel and stomp back into the tent. Suddenly I feel very suspicious of this woman. Could she have been sent to spy on me and Peeta for some horrible Capitol gossip show? If I can help it, I'll never be caught on camera again, Plutarch be damned. Peeta looks up as I huff over to a chair in the corner, sitting down and folding my arms tightly across my chest. "What's wrong?" he asks, looking at me with wide eyes.

"Too many new people," I grumble, because explaining the whole story seems dumb at this point. I didn't realize that the rebuilding of District 12 would attract so many people. It's good that the rebuild is being taken seriously, but I just honestly want to be left alone. It's selfish and impossible, but I can't fight the constant feeling of being watched and it puts me on edge.

I busy myself by looking over plans for the medicine factory while Peeta and Thom iron out some final details for the bakery. The only thing I really gleaned from studying them for an hour is that it'll be incredibly large. Hopefully that will mean a lot of jobs.

"Katniss, we're finished!" Peeta calls to me proudly. My bad mood has deflated a bit, so I make my way over to the table. It makes about as much sense as the blueprint for the factory, so I just look it over with interest and smile. Fortunately he is so excited that he doesn't notice that I'm clueless. "It'll be amazing! I'm already planning how the inside will be decorated. I'll have to have a long talk with Effie to order the right equipment, too. But if it all goes according to plan, it'll be great!"

"That's amazing, Peeta," I say. The plan is nice, but it's really Peeta that amazes me. He can see the future so clearly, and it's generally foggy to me. But he has always had faith in the future; it's the past that haunts him. I'm haunted by both.

He just grins and gives me a kiss on the cheek. I blush but he doesn't really notice and continues chatting with Thom. After a few more minutes, he rolls up the plans and we all leave the tent. Varinia Spark is still bobbing around, constantly clicking her lemon yellow fingernails on her organizer. Franc is nowhere in sight, and I duck behind Peeta to avoid Varinia. The problem with this plan becomes apparent when I hear her squeal.

"Peeta Mellark!" she cries, and I groan. He just looks confused as Varinia runs up to him. "You're so amazing! The two of you are together?"

This day really can't get much worse. "Can I ask your name?" He's too damn polite sometimes.

"Va… Varinia Spark!" she says, and I think she might hyperventilate. "I'm such a big fan, ever since the interview where you admitted your love!" Her long eyelashes flutter and she clutches at her heart dramatically. "It was just so romantic! I have a poster of you on my wall, right next to Finnick Odair!"

My heart pangs at the mention of Finnick, and I can just imagine him on this inane woman's poster, all plastic smiles and sharp features. It's the image of him on his wedding day, dancing with Annie, that I always try to remember. Peeta now seems to understand my aversion to talking to the bubbly woman, but he isn't even sure what to say.

"Thank you, Varinia," I huff. "We have to get going."

I grab his arm and start dragging him toward Victor's Village, followed by squeals of 'The Mockingjay knows my name!' and 'I need to tell everyone I know!', and I can already feel a headache throbbing at the base of my neck.

"Who is that woman?" Peeta asks when he regains his senses.

"Some Capitol planner. She's in charge of directing the rebuild." He frowns, obviously thinking what I did when I first spoke with her. "I actually had a conversation with her. Once you get past the crazy, she knows what's going on in the District. I asked her about the mines."

I relate what Varinia told me as we walk up the path, the gravel abruptly becoming pavement once we pass through the Victor's Village gate. Its late afternoon and we're both hungry, so we ignore Haymitch still snoring on his porch and go to my house. There's still some grouse left over from yesterday, so Peeta seasons it and puts it in the over.

I'm not a good cook, but I'm trying to learn. Little things, like scrambling eggs and cooking just about any kind of meat, are second nature to me now. But anything more complicated than that is completely over my head. Peeta would teach me, but I don't want to ask him. He takes care of me enough. Maybe I could learn how to cook something and surprise him one day.

"Katniss, I'm going to get some bread from my house. Do you need anything?"

"No," I reply. "We should call Annie after dinner."

His smile is tinged with sadness and he leaves. I know that his last memories of Finnick are still shiny, and I know that he wishes that he could remember things more easily without having to ask me for details. I kind of envy him; I'd love to erase the image of Finnick being torn apart by muttations in the Capitol sewers from my mind.

I feel likehaving potatoes, so I pull some out and begin chopping them. Within two minutes Peeta is back with a loaf of bread, and I ask him to make something with potatoes, since I have no idea what to do with them now that they're chopped. He just laughs, but tosses them in a pot of water and adds salt. "You should go grab Haymitch."

I scowl, pushing the toe of my boot against the floor. "Why do I always have to get him?"

"Because you're his favorite and if I leave you with the food it'll burn."

"Just because that happened _one_ time…" I sigh, and he laughs. I smile and kiss his cheek before going to collect our mentor.

He's still on the porch but now he's awake. The geese try to attack me as I stomp over, but one kick to the head gets them to leave me alone. "Hey! Be gentle with the birds!" Haymitch scolds, but I just roll my eyes.

"Can't wait to build that damn pen tomorrow," I grumble, pushing some empty bottles off of the steps with my boot. "Have you cleaned this place since we got back from the Capitol?" The smell from his house nearly makes me gag. I knew that was why he was living on the porch.

"The real question is, have I _ever_ cleaned my house?"

"It was okay when Hazel was cleaning it," I say, but neither of us has anything to add after that, so we just head back to my house. After threatening bodily harm yesterday, he doesn't even try to grab a bottle. I figure that he has a flask hidden on him somewhere, but I don't bother to care.

"Hello, Haymitch," Peeta greets.

He just grunts in response and sits in his usual chair.

"The rebuilding will start soon," Peeta continues, not really caring that Haymitch isn't the greatest conversationalist. Well, neither am I, but that's beside the point. "I've got plans for a new bakery all drawn up. Thom and his crew will get started on the foundation once the rubble is cleared. I'll help too, of course." Peeta puffs out his chest a bit, and I roll my eyes. It's nice to see him excited, though.

"We met some interesting people in town. Especially this Capitol planner in charge of the rebuild named Varinia Spark. She was very interested in the _Mockingjay_," I say, unable to hide the sneer in my voice.

Haymitch perks up a bit at this. "Think she'll be trouble?"

"I don't know. She seemed fairly dim-witted, but she was also really nosy. She actually asked to take a picture with me. I'm honestly not sure what to think."

He leans back in his chair and stares off at a space between the ceiling and the top of the cupboards. "I'll have to go into town tomorrow and see."

I let out a loud laugh. "You're going into town because the weekly train is coming in with your liquor," I tell him.

He smirks at me. "Too smart for me, aren't you, Sweetheart?" he croons. "I can share with you, if you want."

"No way!" Peeta interrupts. "Do you remember when Katniss drank with you that one time? When you both ended up on the roof of my house?"

I blush, because I honestly don't remember anything besides agreeing to a drink. Haymitch just grins. "That was when I decided to get the geese, when we were up on that roof. That was a good day." Now I feel a bit responsible for those damned things roaming around the Victor's Village. "I'll look into the woman, but I don't think she's a threat. Plutarch wouldn't stoop to that unless you refused him an interview."

"He hasn't called. Guess I'm still too crazy to put on television."

Haymitch grunts in agreement. "Hopefully you'll stay crazy for a while."

Dinner plates hit the table between us. "You guys always do this," Peeta says, passing out silverware. "What in the hell are you talking about? Why would that Capitol woman be a threat?"

"Katniss thinks that she might want a scoop on the two of you," Haymitch answers. "And I don't think either of you really want to be in front of an audience again, right?"

Peeta nods in understanding and sits down. Sometimes I forget that Peeta isn't as suspicious by nature as Haymitch and I. Guess it comes from growing up in the Seam. Or he is just better than us. Probably both.

We eat the baked grouse and mashed potatoes, and Peeta tells Haymitch more about the bakery. I just sit back and enjoy the evening, though something is still bothering me. I guess it's just that woman. I don't want to be a spectacle anymore. Living is hard enough.

Haymitch leaves after the food is gone and we wash the dishes before making the phone call to District 4.

Though I hate the parlor, it has a phone that has a speaker feature, allowing both Peeta and I to talk during calls. It's just easier to call people this way, since I'm not very talkative. He dials the long number from memory. The phone just reminds me of Snow and the control of the Capitol, but Peeta assures me the bugs and listening devices have been removed. I'm still suspicious.

"Hello?" an airy voice answers.

"Annie? It's Peeta and Katniss," he says, a warm smile on his face.

"Oh! Hello!" I'm glad that she sounds fairly put together.

Peeta nudges me, and I cough awkwardly. "Hi, Annie."

"Katniss! I haven't heard your voice for so long!"

A pang of guilt strikes me. "I'm sorry, Annie. It's just..."

"It's okay, honestly," she interjects. "It's... it's still hard sometimes. Honestly, I don't know what I would do without Johanna here a few days a week and your mother checking on me every day."

This is a surprise to me. I haven't talked to my mother in nearly a month, and I had no idea that she was helping Annie. I guess it makes sense, considering that she's a medic, but it bothers me. Like she found a new daughter.

Peeta sees the discomfort in my eyes and starts chatting with Annie about her son, Finn. She has numerous stories about him already, and he's only three months old. He looks more like Finnick everyday, and her voice barely catches as she says her dead husband's name.

He tells Annie about the bakery, and she sounds excited, promising to visit after it's completion. They chat about the reconstruction efforts in both Districts, and I just listen. Thoughts of my mother are still clouding up my mind when I hear Annie say my name.

"Yes?"

"Your mother misses you," she tells me. "She wishes that she could come see you, but she's so busy..."

The fact that my mother is too broken to visit her only living daughter remains unspoken. "Tell her that I'll call."

"She would like that. The war still haunts us all, including your mom."

"It always will," I reply, though it still hurts that she hasn't come to see me, since I can't leave the District.

"Healing will take time, but it'll happen. Finnick always believed in this future. I always keep that in mind when things get hard." Annie's voice is starting to drift away, so Peeta tell her that it's getting late. "Yes," she agrees, and I can practically hear the tears in her voice. "I'll talk to you soon. Take care, both of you."

"Of course," Peeta says. "Bye, Annie."

"Bye," I add.

"Goodbye, Peeta, Katniss."

He clicks the phone off and sighs. "It seems like she's doing okay. I was worried about her and the baby, but I think he's really helping her heal."

I just nod in response and stand to leave the room. He grabs my hand and looks into my eyes like he wants to say something, but instead he just kisses my knuckles. We make our way up to bed, and the dark cloud of my mother is still hanging over me as I curl up against Peeta's chest.

His finger runs lightly along a scar that crosses over my left shoulder blade and presses a kiss to my forehead. "I'll never leave you," he whispers. "No matter what happens, I'll be here."

I don't respond, because he can't know that for certain. Mothers aren't supposed to leave their children, but mine left. Twice. What if another war is coming? What if the trackerjacker venom takes him away from me again? What if we aren't really safe yet?

The games are never really over. Annie reminded me how trapped we are, despite all the good things happening. Despite the rebuilding, or little Finn, or healing wounds, people are dead, and I can't forget that fact.

Part of me wants to stay in the present, with Peeta snoring lightly beside me, and be assured that this will last forever. But the part of me that will never go away, the part of me that will forever be in the Arena, knows that nothing is a guarantee, and everything can be gone in the space of a moment. I know that my nightmares will be filled with the faces of the dead as I let the sound of Peeta's heartbeat lull me to sleep.


	4. Peeta: Angry Birds

Author's Note: Thank you all for the support with this story! I'm graduating from college in a little over a month, so the updates might not be very consistent, but they will definitely happen. So please be patient with me. Enjoy the chapter!

Also, the Hunger Games movie was AMAZING. =)

* * *

><p>I wake up to an empty bed. Katniss has gone off to hunt even earlier than normal, as she does every Saturday, since the supply train comes in around noon. The sun is just a sliver between the trees, and the golden light and fresh air coming in through the window makes me smile.<p>

I dress and head downstairs, glad that I'll have the bakery soon to make the bread. Electric mixers and high capacity ovens will speed the process up immensely. The money from the Games just sits in my account, so much that I'll never run out of funds for anything I could want. This is, of course, accounting for the fact that I don't spend much anyway. I have mostly everything I need here.

Making dough is second nature, so I watch the sky become lighter as I work. I form the loaves and set about making a dozen cheese biscuits with the last bit of fresh cheese we have in the refrigerator. More will come in the shipment later today, so I use all of it and make them extra cheesy. Her favorite.

As I push the last loaf in the hot over, I hear a commotion outside. Quickly pulling off my oven mitt, I run out and see Haymitch and Katniss facing off at the center of the Victor's Village circle. Buttercup is sitting at her heels, some feathers sticking out of his mouth. I can't help but laugh, and they both turn to glare at me with identical scowls.

"What's going on?" I ask as I approach. Buttercup meows and rubs against my artificial leg. The fluffy orange cat has always liked me for some reason.

"Stupid ass cat attacked my geese!" Haymitch growls, a nearly empty bottle of white liquor clutched in his hand.

"They were bothering Buttercup!" Katniss argues, and with the way that she talks about the cat sometimes, it's a bit surprising that she's defending him. But it isn't surprising that she will take any side that's against the geese.

Haymitch shakes his bottle at Katniss. Time means nothing to Haymitch Abernathy, considering it's eight in the morning and he's completely wasted. "You probably trained the damn thing to eat them!"

"You can't train a cat to do anything, especially Buttercup. Besides, why would I do that?" she asks, crossing her arms stubbornly.

He hiccups and squints his eyes. "'Cause you're evil."

I laugh again, because it's just too ridiculous. Katniss grins then, and Haymitch just scoffs and stomps away. "Morning," I say, stepping over and wrapping my arms around her.

"Hey," she replies, the soft smile that she reserves only for me crossing her lips. Buttercup meows again and runs off to my house to find food.

I give her a kiss and feel her relax a bit. She's still tense after yesterday, and I wonder if it's the Capitol planner or her mother that is bothering her. Probably both. But I know Katniss, and she'll talk if she wants. "Haven't seen Buttercup around for the last few days."

"I found him in the woods," she says, pulling away and grabbing my hand. We begin walking to my house so I can finish the bread. "He was just sleeping on a rock, like he lost track of time or something. I think that cat could survive a nuclear war. He has way more than nine lives, I think."

I nod, because the fact that Buttercup is here at all still amazes me. Though Katniss doesn't particularly care for the cat, they have a strange bond over their mutual mourning of Prim. When he isn't in the woods or roaming the District, Buttercup is usually in one of our houses, as he is smart enough to realize that Katniss lives in both.

She plops her game bag on the table, pulling out a rabbit and a squirrel. "I got these, another rabbit, and three more squirrels," she says as she sets up her cleaning station on the table. "I love hunting, but it'll be good when the butcher shop is set up and there is a better variety of meat."

"It'll be nice when the town is back to normal," I agree.

She scowls, her knife cleanly slicing off a part of the rabbit's skin in one movement. "Not like before. Better."

I don't know much about the town planning, but I know that there won't be a Seam. It'll just be District 12. I remember my mother talking about people from the Seam, and her cruelty made me feel ill. After I returned from the Games she had called Katniss so many derogatory names that I moved into the Victor's Village house by myself. Even though Katniss didn't love me then, I still couldn't stand anyone talking badly about her.

"Yes," I agree. "Better."

I pull out my loaves of bread as Katniss starts in on the squirrel. She moves with her normal precision, but her eyes are far away. "Peeta?" she says softly. "Do you think I should call my mother?"

This is dangerous territory. I never know what to say to her in regards to her family, since it's such a sensitive subject. Especially now, with how upset she was after the call with Annie last night. "I don't know," I say after a moment. "Do you want to?"

She bites her bottom lip and throws the squirrel's tail in the pile of furs to take into town later. "I don't know, either."

"You told Annie that you would," I remind her.

Katniss sighs, and I kiss the top of her head. "I know," she grumbles. "It's just... not fair." I stay quiet to let her figure out what she wants to say. She doesn't talk much about her feelings, so I know that it's difficult for her to find the right words. "She has a daughter. But she chooses to be with Annie."

I sit down next to her and begin wrapping the clean meat in parchment paper and twine. "I don't think she's choosing Annie _over_ you, per se," I say slowly, hoping that I won't make things worse. "I think she's hurting and finding comfort with someone else who needs help."

Her head tilts down slightly and she stares at the blood on the table covering. "I miss Prim, too. But I'm still here."

I don't bring up the fact that she has to be here by law. She stands and washes her hands, and I still don't know what to say. I can tell her I love her in thousands of different ways, but this is too close to her for me to be able to help.

Katniss still seems disgruntled, but she forces a smile on to her face. "Breakfast?"

I smile and nod, and we go about collecting our usual Saturday breakfast. The cheese buns have been sitting in the cooling oven, keeping them warm and gooey. Katniss grabs two bananas from the counter and two glasses of milk, and we sit together and eat. A majority of fresh fruit is hard to come by currently in District 12, so most of it comes on the train. Ever shipment Katniss and I get two green bananas and let them ripen the whole week. By the next Saturday they are covered with brown splotches and taste incredibly sweet. It's a simple indulgence in a town covered in coal dust, but it's ours and that's what matters.

The breakfast is our own little ritual, a celebration for making it through another week. Because we have to step forward in little chunks, like a week at a time, though with the reconstruction about to begin the future looks bright for the first time in years. Katniss closes her eyes after taking a bite of the warm cheese bun and smiles.

We finish up and put the dishes in the sink for later. Just as we are about to head out to the train station, furs and loaves of bread in hand, she grabs my hand. "Peeta?" she says softly, and I turn to her. She's in a better mood after breakfast, but I know that she's still thinking about her mother. "Thank you for being here," she says simply, her cheeks lighting up into a pretty pink as she tries to dart out the door.

Instead I grab her wrist and pull her to me, bringing my lips down on hers for a lingering kiss. Just hearing her say those words sends my stomach into knots, but it's the best possible feeling I can imagine.

Her tongue tastes like bananas.

After a few minutes we hear a loud pounding from the front door. "Stop making out and get your asses out here!" Haymitch yells, looking in through the window.

Katniss scowls at him and I give her one more peck on the lips before we join Haymitch on the front porch. "Don't be so annoying," she tells the older man, looking like she wants to give him a swift kick in the shins.

"Don't be so lovey-dovey," he retorts. "'Specially if there are suspicious people in town."

This seems to shut Katniss up and she pulls her basket of furs closer to her body. A few geese try to follow us to town but Haymitch tosses his bottle at them and they return to the Victor's Village. "Can't wait to pen those things," Katniss mutters as we walk. I nod in agreement, thinking of different things I could plant in a garden that wasn't threatened by geese.

Practically everyone that lives in the District is packed in the area between the central square and the train station. Men and women alike are talking about the rebuilding efforts that would soon commence in town. The air is buzzing with excitement, and it's nice to feel something light for a change.

Katniss grabs my hand. She still doesn't like crowds, but she's much more at ease among the District 12 residents than she is anywhere else. Haymitch has disappeared, but he always wanders off somewhere to cause trouble. I wonder if he is actually seeking out the Capitol woman from yesterday to investigate her. He's probably just hiding behind the shell of a building with his flask, though.

Thom comes up and shakes my hand. "Morning, Peeta, Katniss!"

"Good morning," I reply. Katniss just nods.

"The official word on the demolition is that the machines and the men will arrive on the fourth and work will begin on the fifth," he tells me. "That strange Capitol planner told me, that Van... Vai..."

"Varinia Spark?" I supply.

"Yeah, that shiny bobble-headed woman," Thom says. Katniss snorts and the man grins. "Nah, she's okay, once you get past the accent and her pointless chatter. At least she knows what's going on."

"When will construction begin?" I ask, the bakery in the forefront of my mind.

"Well, Spark says that the demolition will be finished by next Sunday, so I figure that we could break ground the following Tuesday, if that suits you."

My heart nearly leaps into my throat. That soon? I guess Capitol machines have capabilities beyond what I had thought. "Y-yeah," I reply after a moment, stumbling over my words. "I can't wait." I'm silent for a moment, before I remember that I need posts for the pen. "Oh, can I have some wood posts?"

"Sure thing! Take as many as you want, right behind the construction tent."

"Thanks, Thom."

Thom gives me a pat on the shoulder and walks over to wait for the train with his wife. Katniss and I mill around and distribute our goods before we meet near the line of wagons that everyone uses to haul their items. Except for me, everyone orders their things through magazine order. Everything is currently on discount to the Districts that haven't been rebuilt, meaning that most people are getting their supplies practically for free. Of course, Katniss, Haymitch, and I pay full price, but it's not like it matters.

"Peeta?"

I turn to Katniss, her fingers still laced through mine. "Yeah?"

She turns and looks straight at me. "I love you."

It sends a buzzing sensation through my chest to hear those words. A grin breaks across my face and I lean down, kissing her cheek lightly. I feel like I'll burst from the love that's welling inside of me for my warrior woman, but I keep myself in check. She doesn't like public displays. "I love you, too," I say, and she gives me a shy smile that makes her face look soft.

At that moment, a whistle sounds in the distance. Everyone stops and stares off at the horizon. When the first puff of smoke appears, everyone cheers. We are so dependent on the trains that it's a relief when they come every week. It pulls into the station and something brightly colored darts in front of the loading bay.

"Good morning, District 12!" Varinia Spark calls out, her pants suit covered with pink and orange polka dots. The woman has a strange look on her face, but the smile she has plaster on her lips seems genuine. Katniss subtly points at her gray tinged curls and snickers. "Your Capitol representative, Varinia Spark, is here to help organize the train shipment!"

It usually takes everyone nearly seven hours to sort through the goods and food, but Varinia has set up a system that allows everyone to have their things within four. Our cart contains large sacks of flour and other baking ingredients, cheese, paints, two bananas, assorted vegetables, and the chicken wire that I asked Effie for a few days ago. Haymitch saunters over and plops his crate of white liquor and a huge bag of bird feed on the cart. Katniss glares at him but we just start pulling it back to the Victor's Village in silence.

"That Capitol woman is sneaky," Haymitch grumbles as we pass through the Village gate.

"Did you talk to her?" Katniss asks immediately.

Haymitch scratches his slightly protruding stomach lazily. "Yeah, but I seriously can't tell if she's spying or she's just a idiot. She asked me to autograph a traveling mug with my picture on it. I told her to shove it up her ass." Katniss' laughter is loud and barking, and the strange look on Varinia Spark's face makes much more sense. "I'd say just be careful what you say or do around her."

"Like I wanted to talk to her anyway," Katniss comments.

"Cut her some slack, guys," I say. It's a bit exhausting to be the voice of reason among these two sometimes. "She seems to know what she's doing. The train shipment was organized well today, and she seems to have everything in order."

"Just cause she's got her ducks in a row doesn't mean that she's got a brain," Haymitch tells me, and Katniss snickers. We unload all the supplies, leave Haymitch with his liquor and goose food on his porch, and head back into town for the wood.

"I'm with Haymitch," Katniss says when we're alone. "I don't trust her."

"You don't trust much of anyone," I point out, reaching out to take her hand.

She just huffs but squeezes my palm gently. I know what she's saying – _I trust you._ It makes me smile.

People are still milling around the square when we return, pulling our cart behind us. Thom helps us load up the posts, and his wife, whose name is Jule, gives us a block of butter that we had forgotten.

We have a quick lunch of bread and leftover soup from a few days ago before we start the pen. The geese are milling about and Haymitch doesn't move an inch to help us with anything. Katniss and I dig out the holes for the posts while our mentor tells us dirty jokes that embarrasses us both but makes him roar with laughter. He keeps telling Katniss that her posts are crooked, laughing at her hammering technique, and it takes all of my willpower not to laugh when she chucks her hammer at the porch. At one point Katniss gets a splinter and I have to take a rest because my leg is hurting a bit, but we make good time and have all the slim wooden posts in the ground by sunset.

Katniss runs back to her house to find a staple gun that she ordered a month ago for another project, and I lean back against Haymitch's porch. "So," I say as I watch Katniss run across the circle, momentarily admiring the sway of her hips, "how long do you think this will last?"

He knows what I mean and takes another swig of his liquor. "Plutarch will be itching to get you two back on television, but he'll want an interview. You know, the whole 'we're so in love and we're gonna get married' and shit."

"Katniss doesn't want that."

"The interview or the marriage?"

The question hangs between us and I stare down at the grass, unwilling to think about this issue. Fortunately Katniss spares me the trouble by running back with the large industrial stapler in her hand.

"How do we round these things up?" she asks me as we staple the chicken wire to the posts, creating a huge semicircle that pushes up to the side of Haymitch's house.

The geese are staring at us from various points around the Victor's Village and I shrug. "I guess we'll try to just round them up?"

She shrugs back, because we honestly hadn't thought of this problem. The pen is finished, the wide gate hanging open and empty. "How about if you come around from the left side and I come around from the right, and we try to scare them in?"

I can't think of anything better, so I agree. We walk around opposite sides of the circle. When I find her eyes, we both start running and yelling at the geese, trying to push them toward the open gate. This only gets three geese into the pen, dozens more of them just honking and scattering around the Village. Haymitch is practically rolling on his porch in laughter, and Katniss just gives him the middle finger.

We try this again a few more times, but by the end of it the geese that were originally in the pen have wandered out, and we're both tired of running. Haymitch has tears in his eyes at this point, hardly able to breathe, and I have to hold Katniss back from punching him in the face.

"Okay, new plan," I huff, sitting on the edge of the porch to catch my breath. Katniss sits next to me, leaning down hard on her elbows, her back arching to where I can see the outline of her spine through her sweaty shirt. "Let's put some food in there, maybe we can lure them or something."

This doesn't work, either. The geese ignore the food, still just sitting in the center circle and preening their feathers. I feel like I want to just give up when suddenly a ruckus comes from near my house. The geese are honking and running in every which direction, feathers flying everywhere. I see a glint of yellow and orange fluff dart around the street, hissing and spitting at the birds.

It's our turn to laugh while the geese get attacked by Buttercup. Haymitch is sputtering and cursing, while Katniss leans back and tells him that Buttercup would probably leave them alone if they were in the pen. This isn't true at all, but Haymitch's distress and drunken state are enough to convince him otherwise.

He stumbles off of the porch and sits in the middle of the pen. All he does is click his tongue. Suddenly all the geese are rushing through the gate, still honking in anger about Buttercup. The feline joins us, rubbing his face against my leg and sitting next to Katniss. When every last goose is in the pen, I close the gate and engage the latch.

"Finally," Katniss mumbles, scooping up Buttercup in her arms. "You deserve a treat tonight," she tells the cat, and he meows in agreement.

"Good night, Haymitch," I wave, but he's already passed out in the pen, the geese all sitting around him contently.

We go back to my house. "We need to shower before dinner," she grumbles, and it's true, because we are both soaked through with sweat. Katniss scowls and pushes the toe of her boot against the hardwood floor for a moment, and I know why she feels awkward. We've both never needed a shower at the same time, and there's only enough warm water to run one at once. I see her opening her mouth, probably to say that she'll go back to her house, but I silence her with a kiss.

"Come on," I say, taking her hand and pulling her up the stairs. I'm blushing, and I don't know how Katniss will react, but I don't want her to leave.

"Peeta..." she mutters, unsure of if she should object. But I just pull her into the master bedroom and begin pulling her sweaty clothes off slowly, starting with her shirt. Her skin is slick and shining, and she shivers as the evening breeze rolls through the perpetually open windows. My hands move to her back and begin fiddling with the clasp on her bra, but she just rolls her eyes and reaches behind her back to do it herself. I take this as a sign that she is okay, and step closer, pressing my lips to her neck. "We need to shower," she says, though her tone isn't convincing.

"I just... wanted to feel you for a minute," I tell her, which is partially true. I want more than that. My hands move down the sides of her body, brushing against the sides of her bare breasts and lean stomach to her hips. I unbutton her pants and push them off of her, and now I can see the fire in her eyes that makes my heart melt and my skin tingle.

She pulls off my shirt, pushing herself against me. Her mouth find my jawbone and I close my eyes, the sensation of her lips and teeth grazing against my skin sending chills through my body. We are both sweaty and smelly but it doesn't matter as she pushes me to the bed and starts in on my shorts.

Our clothes are shed before I can blink and I'm half laying over Katniss, and I kiss her while my hand trails slowly down her torso. She moans against my lips when my fingertips brush over her hip bones, and I grin. Katniss is always so strong, and it makes my body heat to feel her gasping for breath and shivering in pleasure because of me.

My hand moves between her legs and her hips buck up off the bed. "Peeta," she breathes, but I'm enjoying myself too much to rush now. My fingers push against her and she moans, pushing her face against my neck as I slowly rub the bundle of nerves that my brothers had told me about that drive a woman crazy. The desired effect is achieved and her mouth is open against my skin, my name on her breath and I want her so badly. I let a finger slide into her and she practically begging now, and I can't hold back anymore either.

I roll over her, my vision hazy to everything but Katniss, and settle myself between her legs. My hands move to her breasts, and I lean down to kiss each nipple gently, causing her eyes to flutter shut while she moans. I'm about to push into her when I stop.

"Peeta!" she grumbles, her face flushed and her hair pulled completely out of her short ponytail.

"Katniss..." I say, and I feel bad for asking, but sometimes I just need to hear her confirmation. "You want me, right?"

She opens her eyes and I'm startled with how clear they are, sparkling in the twilight, when she answers. "I want you so badly, Peeta."

That's all it takes for me to thrust forward. She cries out and grips the bed sheets, and I groan, because she's so wet and I know that it's because of me. I sit up and pull her hips toward me, thrusting into her from a different angle, and her hands find my knees and grip them tightly. "Peeta, Peeta," is her mantra, and hearing her say my name makes me want her even more.

I feel myself getting close, but I won't leave her hanging, so I pull out of her. She immediately protests, before I kneel down between her legs, and then she's moaning again. Her legs are shivering on either side of my head and she just tastes so _good_ that it's hard for her to get my attention. "Peeta, please, I need you," she moans, and I understand her, so I crawl over her body again and push into her.

It doesn't take much longer for her to fall apart beneath me, and I come soon after, pressing my forehead against her neck. She runs her fingers through my hair soothingly, her breathing slowly returning to normal, and I roll off of her. I look at her and we both grin, laughing in happiness as I pull her close for a minute while we let our bodies relax.

But we are both so sweaty that we feel disgusting, so we don't cuddle for long. Even though we've just had sex, Katniss is hesitant to shower with me. "Come on, I'll wash your back," I say with a smile, holding my hand out to her.

After a second she joins me, her face as red as a strawberry. Fortunately the showers in the master bedrooms are large, with a bench on one side, so we aren't crowded. I turn the water to a mild temperature and let her rinse off first. Seeing the water droplets roll down her skin reminds me of the Quarter Quell, when we were on the beach. Thoughts of Finnick, Johanna, and a sea food feast come into my mind. Then I remember the pearl.

"Katniss, what ever happened to that pearl I found for you?" I ask as she switches me spots. The water feels nice and I'm momentarily distracted from my own question.

She is staring at the tile with a frown. "I lost it somewhere. I don't know if I lost it in the Capitol or if someone took it from me at some point, but I lost track of it. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay, I was just asking." I'm a little sad that it's gone, but I understand. A pearl is nothing compared to having Katniss next to me. In the shower. Rubbing soap all over her body.

My mind is completely blank while I watch the bubbles collect on her sun-kissed skin, her body so slick and smooth...

It takes me a moment to realize that she's talking again. "...always reminded me of you," she says, and I try to focus. "Sometimes that pearl was the only thing that would keep me sane. It gave me hope that you were still alive, still okay, somewhere."

I feel bad because I think I've made her feel bad for not having it anymore. "But I'm here now and I'm not leaving, so you don't really need the pearl anymore, right?"

The words seem to soothe her because she smiles then. "Yeah, you're right."

We finish our shower quickly after Katniss' stomach growls. She tosses on her pajamas and I put on a pair of shorts and we have a small dinner of fresh vegetables and bread from the shipment. I make up a quick batch of cookies while Katniss gives Buttercup, who has waited patiently for his treat, some squirrel. We eat half of the cookies and do the dishes before heading over to Katniss' house, since the bed in mine is sweaty and needs the sheets changed.

Buttercup settles himself on the edge of her bed after we get under the covers. Katniss rolls into my arms and I hold her close, and we are both so tired that sleep isn't difficult to find.


	5. Katniss: Losing My Senses

Impressions of my nightmare are still burned into my eyelids. They haunt me and follow me as I move quietly around the room, pulling on my hunting gear without really thinking. I've dressed in the dark for so long (at first with my family, then alone, and now with Peeta) it is a mechanical process that allows my mind to drift.

Currently my mind is replaying my dream, showing me a bloody Boggs and a hijacked Peeta, so I turn back to the bed as I button my pants. Peeta is fine, sleeping like a baby, Buttercup still curled up by his feet. He always looks so young when he sleeps peacefully. I wish I could remember more about him from when we were children, but the earliest memory of him I have is the bread incident. He was probably cute as a child.

The thought is strange to me, because I hardly ever think anything is 'cute'. But I dismiss it and pull the covers up over Peeta's bare shoulder. His body is all pale skin and tender pink flesh, fading scars crossing over his chest and arms, and it makes me smile. Not because I enjoy seeing his previous injuries, but because despite them all, he is still here, with me. He promised, after all.

I take my bow and head out to the chunk of missing fence. The whole thing should really be taken down. The planned space for the medicine factory already will take down part of it, so hopefully they just finish the job. It's a reminder of a past without freedom. It makes me wonder if we're really free now. Is this what freedom is like? I still don't know.

A smell that can only be described as 'spring time' wipes any trace of my nightmare from my mind as I enter the woods. This is where I feel the past weigh on my shoulders the most, because the woods epitomizes everything that my life was before the Reaping two years ago. Gale's presence always haunts me here, and I try to put him out of my mind as I send an arrow flying. It finds its mark, plunging into the squirrel's eye and driving itself into the skull, and I smile.

The ease of hunting helps to balance the memories, but they're everywhere. Even if I try to avoid my old hunting grounds, I find pockets of recollection in the trees and the rocks in every direction. I have discovered that there is no escape my memory while I'm hunting, so I either ignore it or let the past wash over me like a wave, unable to stop the flow. Today I constantly see Gale and a burning Prim out of the corner of my eye, and it causes me to miss a rabbit more than once.

After two hours I stomp out of the woods, grumpy and weary. I at least got a turkey, which I have slung over my shoulder with some rope to give to Greasy Sae. She welcomes me with a warm smile, a fresh loaf of bread cooling on her table. "He left not two minutes ago," she says, seeing the question in my eyes.

I smile a bit sheepishly at her. Am I getting that transparent? Though Greasy Sae has always seen me a bit more clearly than others, I suppose. "Got a good one for you," I tell her, plopping the fat bird down on the table.

She grins and promises to deliver some sort of soup for dinner tonight. Knowing Sae, I'm not sure what else will be in it besides turkey and water. It could be anything. But her food has always been filling and tasty in its own way. I thank her and leave, various rabbits and squirrels bouncing in the game bag against my leg, and I try to figure out where Peeta has gone.

I follow my usual route, dropping meat off to the few families who have children, with Thom's wife Jule being the last. She doesn't have kids, but they are both doing a lot for the District, so I make sure to get them something a few times a week.

I knock on the door only to be met by Peeta. His bread basket is empty and his eyebrows are raised with surprise. After a moment a smile crosses his face. "Good morning," he says.

Just his happy face is enough to make me return the smile. I'm too soft anymore. "Hey," I reply.

He lets me into the house, where Jule is arranging some bandages and gauze. She has only been trained as a midwife, but she does basic first aid when the new District doctor is busy. "Katniss!" she greets happily. "The two of you are so kind, bringing food to Thom and me."

I shrug, a bit uncomfortable with the attention. "Just want to help," I mutter, though my primary reasons are more selfish. It gives me a sense of purpose to be able to give them something that no one else can provide. I don't know what I'll do with my free time once the butcher gets into town. Maybe I'll have to find a hobby. I hold back a shudder at the thought.

Peeta and I leave the house, and he takes my free hand in his and kisses my cheek. Though I don't think anyone is watching, I still glance around. The paranoia will never go away. "How was hunting?" he asks.

I give a noncommittal grunt, not really wanting to talk about the memories that followed me around the woods. Though I've obviously chosen Peeta, I think Gale is still a sore spot for him. I can relate. "What do you wanna do now?"

He tilts his head back and looks up at the sky. A single cloud floats over the District, no breeze in the air to push it to another patch of the world. "How about the memory book?"

I nod. We haven't worked on it for nearly a week, but it's getting more difficult at this point. We have already hit all of the big names (Prim, Finnick, Rue, etc.) and are working on other tributes and people that died in the firebombing. We don't have much to work with, and I feel bad only writing a few sentences. That can't be all that's left of a person; my measly sentences can't be enough.

Fortunately Peeta's skilled artist hands are a great help. The first time I saw the picture that he drew and painted of Prim for the book I cried for two days straight. At first he was ashamed, thinking that he had upset me. But that wasn't it. It was just like seeing her alive again. He captured her perfectly, down to the dimple on her left cheek and the exact shades of her hair. I don't look at it often, but I want to start looking more. She deserves to be remembered exactly like that, clean and perfect and alive.

We walk back in a companionable silence, the morning sun hanging over the Victor's Village as we step through the gate. Haymitch is asleep inside of the goose pen. "Guess he never got up last night," I say, partially disgusted and partially amused. Peeta sighs like an old woman and then I do laugh, because we aren't even twenty years old and we have to look after a grown man.

"We'll make sure he eats dinner," Peeta says, pulling me to my house. I set up my animal cleaning station and get to work on the rabbit and squirrel I saved for the two of us. He makes a quick batch of basil and garlic biscuits and I set aside a few cuts of squirrel that he quickly starts cooking.

I'm scrubbing my hands when I notice that Peeta's arms are looking rather muscular. Of course, I know that Peeta's strong. Even after the hijacking and torture, he could lift me off the ground without trouble. I still have nightmares about it, phantom pain blooming around my neck. I never tell him about those dreams. His biceps are pushing against his short shirt sleeves, and seeing how his muscle moves beneath the skin as he takes the biscuits out of the oven sends a funny shiver down my spine.

Ignoring the feeling, I sit down next to him and have the simple lunch. The food is delicious. Again I'm envious of his cooking ability. The biscuits are light and fluffy while the meat is cooked perfectly (a bit rare for me, more well done for him) and the seasoning is amazing. The fresh herbs help tremendously.

I wash the dishes while he dries, and I notice the line of his jaw. It's square and wide, completely smooth. A pinkish burn scar starts beneath his left ear and trails down his neck. It isn't large, and it isn't the worst burn scar on either of us by a long shot, but I suddenly want to kiss the tender skin.

Pulling my eyes back down to the soap bubbles in the sink, I wonder what is wrong with me. Is this what being in love is? Constantly wanting him? I don't know how I feel about all of this yet. Needing him is one thing, but wanting him is a harder pill to swallow. For so many years I had tried to eliminate 'want' from my vocabulary, only insisting on the necessities. But now I have everything that I need, and I _want_ Peeta, no matter how hard I try to deny myself that luxury.

He smiles at me and I make up my mind. I lean forward and kiss him hard, making him drop the drying towel in surprise. It doesn't take him long to respond, and he has me pulled against his chest. I can feel the muscles in his arms encircle me and I vaguely wonder when things like that started to catch my attention.

But now everything about him has my full attention as his fingertips slide beneath the hem of my shirt. My hands are still wet and soapy, but he doesn't seem to mind and I just plain don't care. I push my hands up, touching his jaw, caressing the burn on his neck, feeling his curly hair slide between my fingers. He's so heavy and alive, and his lips taste like basil, and it's all just overwhelming.

He pulls me into the living room and I move with him, straddling his lap when he falls back on to the couch. His hands are smooth against my skin as he slides my shirt over my head. I generally don't think I'm very attractive, but when Peeta's eyes light up like they are now, I feel radiant. And not radiant like I was when I was the girl on fire, parading around in a chariot. Now I'm truly beaming, and it's because he believes that I have that brightness within me. I don't know if that's true, but when his lips move against the tops of my breasts as he fumbles with the clasp on my bra, I'm burning like the sun.

Peeta manages to get one hook undone. His attempt is charming but I don't want to wait another five minutes for him to finish the job. I pull it off with practiced ease and his mouth falls to my nipple, his hands moving to caress my breasts. Those baker's hands, so good at kneading dough, drive me crazy. "Peeta," I barely manage to mumble, the words sticking in my throat.

But he understands and looks up at my face, his eyelids heavy with lust. It's a strange expression on Peeta, but for that very reason it sends shivers up my spine. I bring it out of him, because he wants me. The though alone propels me forward and I pull off his shirt.

"Katniss," he breathes, "Do you want me?"

"Yes," I reply immediately. His hands slide down my torso and hips, pulling me down tightly against his lap. I feel his erection against the crux of my legs, and just the friction from our pants rubbing together practically has me panting.

"Good," he says, "because I want you so badly."

My mouth falls to his neck, licking and sucking on his sweet skin, eliciting a low moan from him. He always has a taste of sugar on his body, combined with something woody and musky. It's so distinctly Peeta that I smile. His fingers are fumbling with the button on my pants, and fortunately he has better luck with this clothing endeavor.

I stand and pull my pants off, and he does the same, and now we are both naked in the living room. I don't even like when Haymitch sees us kiss, but my need is so desperate that I don't even think about the windows. He pulls me back down and I'm straddling his lap again, resting my arms on his shoulders. My hips are raised and I can feel him against my inner thigh. I press a kiss to his forehead and he moans, looking practically pained in his anticipation.

A grin spreads across my face, and I decide to have a little fun. I drop my lips to his neck again, because I know that it's a sensitive spot for him, and dip my hips slightly. I brush against him, causing a cry of outrage, and his hands grip my hips. Though it would be fun to tease a bit more, I just want to feel him inside of me, so I let him guide my hips and slide down on him slowly.

His eyes are glazed over and I'm sure I don't look much different. Sex is still something new to me, so I move my hips hesitantly, unsure of myself. Peeta doesn't rush me, and just leans back and watches as I move over him. His gaze roves over my body like he cant get enough of looking at me, and it gives me courage to move a bit faster.

He groans and slides down the couch a bit more, holding my hips so I stay balanced. My hands grip his shoulders and I find a good rhythm, pressing my forehead against his. I stare into his eyes and for a moment we are the only people in the world, just Peeta and I.

A grunt escapes his lips and his hands try to still me, but I don't want to stop. Seeing that he is about to unravel, I grab his wrist and bring his hand to where we are joined, and he grins. His thumb brushes against me and I lose it instantly, nearly falling off his lap. His name practically echoes off the walls with how loud I've screamed, but I don't care. Peeta is watching me as I arch my back and grind against him, riding out the wave passing over me. He moves his hands back to my waist to give him more leverage and he pulls me closer and pushes his face into my breasts as he comes, his breath hot and staccato against my skin.

After a moment he pulls me on to the couch next to him. Our hands are clasped as we lean back into the couch cushions, breathing hard. I close my eyes, letting the perfect calm settle over my body. Any consternation I felt this morning is forgotten, and I can't help the grin that crosses my face. I pull my eyelids open and find Peeta. He is looking at the ceiling with a dreamy expression on his face, and I chuckle.

"Hey," he breathes, "don't laugh at me."

"I'm not," I tell him. "You just look sort of... cute right now." I feel my cheeks heat up, and I don't know why something like this embarrasses me still, especially when we have just had sex.

But I know that Peeta appreciates my gesture. "I love you," he tells me, and he leans over and kisses my lips gently. I smile against his mouth and he begins to move closer, but suddenly a ball of fur is between us.

Buttercup, ugly face and all, is settling himself between out bare thighs. "I didn't even know he was here," I mutter, absently petting him as my mind begins to defog.

"Probably wants some squirrel or something," Peeta replies. I keep running my hand over Buttercup's back as Peeta stands and pulls on his shorts before going to the kitchen for a bit of leftover squirrel. Buttercup just stares up at me, and I stick my tongue out at him. I had wanted those kisses.

When Peeta returns I stand and start pulling my clothes on as well. He comes behind me and presses a kiss to the back of my neck, hugging me to his chest. His skin is slightly damp with sweat and the whole living room smells like sex. Haymitch will definitely notice next time he is over. Damn.

As Buttercup eats we finish dressing and get out the memory book materials. The book is starting to bulk up as we add more people and details. Currently a picture of Annie, her son, and Johanna is on the front cover. They are smiling and seem happy. I look at Peeta, my personal proof that happiness exists after war. They probably are happy.

I pull out a letter from Johanna that had accompanied the picture. She has detailed everything she can remember about her district partner from her original Games, along with information about Blight and some remarkable Tributes from District 7 from her time as a Mentor. A letter from Beetee is on the stack beneath Johanna's, notes about Wiress printed on manilla paper. Friends have been sending letters over the past month, after Peeta contacted them to tell them about our project. The stack is large and sorting through it is time consuming, but gathering information about the people lost to the Hunger Games and the war is something that I feel obligated to do. Not because anyone is making me, but because it is my choice, and I refuse to take having a choice for granted.

Peeta is working on a painting of Blight and I'm writing notes from Johanna's lengthy letter when Greasy Sae appears, totting a small pot of turkey soup. She grins and says that everyone loves the turkey, thanking me again for the bird. It smells good. Really good.

We ask her to stay, but she has to get back to her sweet granddaughter. "We should get Haymitch to eat something," Peeta says.

I groan. "Let's just take him a bowl. I don't feel like dragging him over here."

"Me either," he sighs. "Plus we have our appointment tonight."

I scowl. It had nearly slipped my mind. Dr. Aurelius calls on Sunday evenings, since we are still under Capitol mandated therapy. I hate Sundays.

I pour some soup into a large bowl and we head over to Haymitch's porch. He's sprawled out on the ratty sofa with a bottle of clear liquor in his hand. The geese honk and cluck around in the adjacent pen, and Haymitch looks over them like a king would look over his kingdom. Imagining Haymitch as the ruler of anything makes me laugh.

"Smells good," he says, his voice gruff with disuse. Probably hasn't spoken all day. We're his only friends, after all.

"Compliments of Greasy Sae," Peeta says as I hand him the bowl and a spoon.

"We'll pick up the dishes tomorrow." I grab Peeta's hand and drag him off the porch. The reminder of the Doctor's call has put me in a bad mood, but Haymitch doesn't even notice as he digs into his meal.

"It's okay, Katniss," Peeta says, knowing that I'm dreading having to talk to Dr. Aurelius. "He just wants to help, you know."

I wrinkle my nose. Peeta has always been a fan of the doctor, and I can understand. He has helped Peeta immensely with his flashbacks and the hijacking, before he left the Capitol and now. But I just can't open up to him. I can't open up to anyone, besides Peeta, and even that is still difficult. Plus, talking about my nightmares and memories is painful. At least Dr. Aurelius is aware of this and never pushes me.

We eat the soup slowly, waiting for the call. It startles me when the phone actually does ring, but it shouldn't have. Eight on the dot. He's always so punctual.

Peeta moves to the parlor to answer the phone. Sometimes we talk to him together, but most of the time we talk separately. There are still things that Peeta can't tell me, and it's okay, considering all the things that I can't tell him yet.

I clean up the kitchen and head back to the living room, trying to occupy my mind with Johanna's memories of Blight. I know that they weren't really friends, but she has a lot of stories. She had at least twice as many for Finnick, and probably has plenty about the other mentors. Surprisingly she has been incredibly helpful, in her gruff way. Haymitch has refused to even look at the book yet, but Peeta and I both know that his contribution will be large. Despite the drinking, his memory is sharp. Which is probably why he drinks more every year.

The time flies by and an hour and a half later Peeta emerges from the parlor. His eyes are a bit red and he has been crying, but I don't ask. It's an unspoken rule that we don't ask about the sessions, and unless we feel like sharing they stay confidential. Well, unless Peeta feels like sharing. He kisses my cheek and smiles as I pass him, entering the parlor.

The phone is on speaker. I plop down in the comfortable leather chair behind the desk and sigh. "Hello, Katniss," a voice says from the speaker.

"Hi, Doctor," I grumble. No need for pretense with him. He knows that I don't like doing these things.

"From what Peeta tells me, much has happened this week." The tone of his voice makes me suspicious. He sounds concerned.

"What do you mean?"

He's silent for a minute. It isn't like him to hedge around a question. "Just... be careful with him, Katniss. I know that you're not completely stable, but Peeta is different. I don't want either of you to get hurt, or to get into a situation that neither of you are ready for."

I'm still incredibly confused. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't need to get pregnant, Katniss. Just be careful."

His words send a shock through my system. Pregnant? Peeta told him about that? Well, of course he did, he is Peeta. But the idea of pregnancy startles me. I haven't had a period in over a year, so it had never crossed my mind. Could I be wrong?

I jump out of my chair, leaving Dr. Aurelius confused, calling my name through the speaker.

"Katniss?" Peeta calls as I run out the door, letting it slam shut in my wake. Haymitch doesn't comment as I dart out of the gate toward the town. My mind is racing and blank at the same time, only one destination on my mind.

Though it is after sunset, I knock loudly on Thom's front door. He answers, his face twisting with concern when he sees my expression. "What's wrong?" he asks.

"Can I see Jule?" I pant, winded from the run.

He motions me inside to the living room. Jule is sitting in a rocking chair, knitting a pair of socks. She sees my face and immediately asks Thom to fetch some wood from the kindling pile out back. He escapes the room like the walls are on fire.

"What's wrong?" she asks me.

"How soon can you tell if you're pregnant?"

Her face pales and she stands. I follow her to a side room with medical supplies. "Fortunately the Capitol has supplied the town doctor and I with some good supplies." She holds up a contraption that looks like a gun. There's a little needle and a digital display. It instantly makes me nervous. "This can test your blood for a certain hormone that indicates pregnancy. It takes but a minute."

She wipes a small patch of my arm with peroxide to disinfect it before poking me with the tester. I barely notice, because in my daze I realize that I've forgotten to put on shoes. The tester beeps and we both wait silently, the air incredibly thick. When I feel like I'll pass out from my anticipation, the tester beeps again, and we both look at the display.

_Not pregnant_.

I close my eyes and fall back into a chair. My heart has dropped into my stomach, and I'm so thankful that tears are prickling my eyes. A small part of me almost feels sad, but it is quickly squashed by my joy at seeing the negative outcome.

Jule watches me, keeping her expression neutral. It's rumored that she and Thom are trying to have a baby, but they are having a hard time. I wonder if seeing me so grateful to not be pregnant affects her. "If you're concerned about pregnancy, we have a shot that will act as a contraceptive," she says, breaking my train of thought.

"Really?" I ask. My voice is low and breathy, and I feel exhausted by the rush of emotions. Not even ten minutes has passed since Dr. Aurelius put the thought of pregnancy into my head. It is just too much.

"Yep. Just one shot a month, guaranteed to prevent unwanted pregnancy."

Though I don't like shots or medication, I agree to get the injection. She disinfects another patch of skin and pulls out a vial of clear liquid. I don't watch her fill the syringe or push it into my skin.

"There you go," she says, grabbing two band-aids, one for the tester and one for the syringe. They're purple with little pink hearts. "Just come back once a month for another."

I look up at her. Jule isn't that much older than me, probably in her mid-twenties. She has the general Seam look, but her eyes are flecked with a warm amber color that makes her cheeks seem more pink. "Thank you," I tell her, sincerely grateful for her help.

"Anything for you, Katniss," she tells me, and I know it isn't because I lead a war that she is so kind. It's because she genuinely cares about me and it warms my heart a bit, though I'm still frantic from earlier.

I apologize for barging in and wish Jule and Thom goodnight. My bare feet drag back to Victor's Village. I feel so tired.

Peeta is with Haymitch, and they both look surprised when I push through the gate. "Katniss!" Peeta calls, running over to me immediately. "What happened? Where did you go? Are you okay?"

The barrage of questions makes me grumpy. I scowl at him, crossing my arms. "Just had to check something. By the way, thanks for telling Dr. Aurelius about... _us_," I hiss, feeling a strange surge of anger at Peeta. It's his fault that I could have possibly been pregnant. His fault that I'm so in love with him that I lost my senses.

He looks shocked. "I just talked to him about how I was feeling. About... about how being with you has helped so much..."

I want to give him a hug and forgive him, but I can't. The emotions are building inside of me and I don't know what to do with them. "It's your fault!" I yell. I can't stop myself. "You, you made me soft! Made me forget! Made me forget all the bad things about the world!" I'm stomping toward my house, Peeta on my tail, Haymitch not far behind.

"What are you talking about?" he yells back. "Why are you being so crazy?"

I stop. He did _not_ just call me crazy.

Peeta has caught up with me. "What in the hell is the matter with you?"

"You are!" I holler, turning to him. There are tears in his eyes but I can't stop now. "I love you so much that I forgot! All the pain, all the misery! We could have brought a baby into this horrible world, and you made me almost forget!"

His jaw has dropped. Apparently he hadn't thought about the idea of pregnancy either. Peeta's eyes drop to my stomach, and I see it. Hope. The same hope that pulled me through two Hunger Games and a war now infuriates me.

"I'm not pregnant!" I hiss, turning from him again and stomping to my house. "And I never will be!"

I slam the door behind me, locking it with the deadbolt. As I start locking windows I hear him rattle the door. His voice is calling for me, and Haymitch is calling for Peeta, but I ignore them. I lock everything on the ground floor. The memory book is still open on the table and Peeta's half finished painting of Blight makes me start crying. So many people died, people I didn't even know. I almost brought a new life into this uncertain world. The Games are never really over.

I lock up the second floor, just in case, and then lock myself in my bedroom. My breath is shallow and my blood is pulsing through my veins. All the anger and energy I had just a moment ago is bubbling out of me, and I'm exhausted. I don't bother washing my dirty feet or changing into pajamas. I just lay on the bed and press my face into the pillow.

I wish I could open the window. I wish Peeta was here. I wish the world was better.

I wish for darkness, and I fall asleep.


	6. Peeta: Moving Forward

Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your reviews! It really inspires me to hear your thoughts about the story. Please enjoy!

* * *

><p>"She's not gonna come out."<p>

"I have to be sure."

Haymitch sighs and rolls over on his porch couch. The sun is barely peaking through the trees, and I've barely slept. I've been waiting, just in case she went hunting. I need to talk to her.

Last night is still rolling through my head. After she ran out of the house, I tried to chase her, but my stupid leg held me back. I couldn't keep up and lost sight of her before I even left the Victor's Village. It was all so confusing that I didn't know what to do, so I went back to the house. Dr. Aurelius was still on the phone, calling out for someone to answer him. I demanded to know what he told her, but he refused. Everyone still keeps things from me, like I can't handle it. It made me angry, so I hung up the phone and went to sit with Haymitch.

Then she came back. Her eyes were crazed, almost like when she shot Coin, instantly making me uneasy. She yelled a lot of things at me, but the thing that stuck most was the word 'baby'. The thought of getting Katniss pregnant hadn't even crossed my mind, even after we had started having sex.

I've thought about it all night. What would it be like to have a child with Katniss? After the Reaping, I never thought of life beyond the next day - hell, beyond the next few minutes. But now that we have our lives stretched out before us, we don't know what to do or how to really live. We aren't married, not even twenty years old. It was irresponsible and reckless to not think about the possibilities.

Part of me desperately wishes that she was pregnant.

It's selfish of me, I know. She doesn't want a baby. But when she said it, I got so excited. Being a parent with Katniss is a dream. But who am I kidding? We barely are making it through the day, we could never have a child like we are now. Katniss is still emotionally unstable, and the hijacking will affect me for the rest of my life. Will we ever be okay enough to have kids? Should I even be thinking these things?

"She isn't coming out, boy."

Haymitch turns and picks up a fresh bottle of white liquor. The geese are nesting and he refuses to go far from them. I think he likes the pen, since he can lounge on his filthy sofa and still watch them. They can fly out, of course, but I think they like the pen, too. As much as geese can like anything, I suppose.

"No, she isn't," I agree. Deep down I knew she wouldn't. She'll be in bed, staring at the wall, caught in one of her nightmares. And I thought that we were doing so well. "I'm going to go bake. If you see her, please get me."

He just grunts. I've sat on his porch all night dozing in and out against the railing. He told me to go home and go to bed so many times that I lost count. I can't sleep without her anymore. It's a bit pathetic.

Finally I stand, though I nearly tumble to the ground because my leg is so stiff from sitting all night. Bread doesn't bake itself though, so I head to my house. A pair of her shoes are next to the door. One of her hunting knives is sitting on the counter. The bananas that came on the train are sitting on the windowsill, waiting for the next Saturday morning breakfast.

I can't get away from her. She's been on my mind for so long now that 'Katniss' is the default setting for my thoughts. I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't angry at her, for her outburst. Aren't adults supposed to talk about things before yelling and fighting? I sort out some of my aggression while I knead the dough, but I can't ever stay mad at her for long. She's just scared. It's her survival instinct kicking in to cover a perceived weak point, since she's let herself be vulnerable with me, which I'm thankful for every day.

But it's still upsetting.

I put the loaves in the oven and stare out the window at her house. I decide that if she doesn't emerge before lunch, I'll break in and make sure that she's okay. She couldn't have locked the basement window, it's too high for her to reach.

I sigh, deciding that I should at least take advantage of the time away from Katniss to get some things done. Namely, planning her birthday party. Katniss has no need for a calendar, so she hardly ever knows what day it is, unless it is Saturday, and that's only because of the shipment. But next Saturday is May 8th, and even though Katniss has forgotten it, I remember her birthday.

I pull the bread out and cut the hot loaves in halves before throwing them into my basket. As I leave I glance at her house again. We'll be okay, I know, but it's still difficult. It'll always be difficult for us, though. But as I give Haymitch some bread for his breakfast, I realize it isn't that bad. Because all the good is well worth the pain.

* * *

><p>I deliver the bread quickly, since I have some phone calls to make before lunch. It's almost ten in the morning by the time I step into the house and plop my basket on the table. On a normal day Katniss would be here, cleaning her game, but she hasn't left her house. In fact, her bow is still sitting in the corner of the room along with her arrows. She painstakingly makes them by hand, though I've offered to have Effie send some made in District 2. It's a matter of pride, she says. Stubborn through and through.<p>

After getting comfortable in the office, I dial up my first number. "What?"

I laugh. "Good morning, Johanna!"

"Is that you, Bread Boy?"

"Yeah. How's it going?"

She sighs, her tone slightly ragged. Johanna is tough, but just from watching television I can tell that she's been busy. "Decent. Just trying to make the world a better place," she says sardonically. "How are you and our little Mockingjay?"

"Okay. Just trying to live." Though that isn't nearly as simple as it sounds with the two of us.

"It's difficult sometimes," she replies, echoing my thoughts.

"How are Annie and Finn?" I ask, not wanting to go down this road, especially over the phone.

I can practically hear her smile in her voice when she speaks. "Really good. Finn is doing wonders for Annie. She so together most of the time now. I just wish Finnick could have had her like this. Could have watched little Finn growing."

"We miss him, too," I say, recalling when Katniss and I talked about him just the other day.

"You didn't call just to catch up, though," she says, always to the point.

"No, I didn't. Would you, Annie, and Finn be up to visiting us this Saturday? It's her birthday."

Johanna is quiet for a moment. Then I hear a muffled voice in the background. Annie. Johanna is talking to her in a gentle tone. "Yeah, we can do that," she says after a moment.

"Good!" I reply, a grin spreading across my face. I haven't seen any of them since I left the Capitol, and it hits me now how much I miss them. "You can stay as long as you like."

"We'll work out the details, but we'll be there on the Saturday train," Johanna says. "Does she know?"

"Nope."

She chuckles and I hear Annie laugh in the background. "Well then, this should be fun."

"I'll call later this week to make sure everything is in order."

"No need to check up on us."

"I'll still call."

"Whatever. Catch you later, Bread Boy."

"Bye, Johanna! Bye, Annie!"

"Bye!" I hear Annie chirp in the background before the phone cuts out. I think of the picture on the front of the memory book. A ragtag family, missing some of its members, but they're a family nonetheless. This makes me think of my own pieced together family. Katniss and Haymitch, with Greasy Sae and her sweet granddaughter, and Thom and Jule, all of them. It makes me happy, this simple thing.

I want more than anything to go to Katniss. Instead, I hang up the phone and dial a new number.

It barely rings once before a voice bursts over the intercom. "Peeta, darling!"

"Hello, Effie."

The enthusiasm she brings to everything always amazes me. "How are you, dear?"

"Pretty good. You?"

"Oh, you know me! Trying to keep busy." I know that Effie is working under Coin to help coordinate the Capitol residence and ease them into their new lifestyles, so she probably has her hands full. But I know that the war haunts Effie just as much as it haunts any of us, and that she's struggling, too. "Can I do something for you?"

"Yeah. I had something to request for the next shipment."

I hear a rustling noise, probably finding her electronic device that orders things. "Okay, shoot!"

"I'd like some seeds. Green beans, potatoes, broccoli, carrots, and tomatoes. Fresh from District 11 if possible. I'd rather have the kind that hasn't been modified by the Capitol."

"No problem! The Capitol has actually been going in a more natural direction. I'm hoping it isn't just a trend, and that this will be another way to get the Capitol citizens integrated back into society. But getting those people to actually _work_ is such a challenge!"

I laugh, wondering what the oddly colored and coiffed people of the Capitol would actually be qualified to do. "What kind of jobs are you trying to give them?"

"Well, some of them have taken to organizing the rebuild. Have you met the girl I sent to District 12, Varinia Spark? She loves you and Katniss so much, I just knew she would have a blast there!"

'Have a blast' isn't exactly a phrase I would use to describe a place that is recovering from a firebombing. "She seems to be doing a good job," I tell her honestly.

"Oh, how wonderful! She's one of the good ones, though. Most of them think that working is menial and below them. The nerve! I was working in the Games for years, and before that I was a secretary in a government office. I've been working since I became an adult! There's so much that needs to be done for this country, and they could help, if they wouldn't be so darn lazy!"

The passion in Effie's voice takes me off guard. Her dedication to the cause is impressive, almost inspiring. I suddenly miss her. She became like an older sister to me while I was in the Capitol, visiting me every day, bring me presents, doting over me. Maybe it's because I'm still vulnerable after last night, but suddenly I really want her to visit.

"Katniss's birthday is this Saturday. Could you make it up for a visit?"

"Oh, Peeta darling, I wish!" she says, sounding truly heartbroken. "I'm just so busy with work right now, I couldn't possibly pull myself away!"

"It's okay, Effie. You can visit whenever you have time." I can't help but feel disappointed, though I know that Katniss really wouldn't want her here, anyway.

"Maybe in a few weeks," she mutters. I hear a clicking sound. Probably looking through her electronic calendar. "Can I get you anything else?"

"No, that's it. Thank you," I tell her. "Good luck with your work."

"Thank you, darling! Keep an eye on Haymitch and Katniss for me, they would be lost without you!"

I want to laugh. I'm not so sure about Katniss right now, but she's dead on about Haymitch. He'd probably starve without Katniss and I. "Of course. Bye, Effie."

"Bye Peeta, dear!"

I hang up, leaning back in the chair. Talking with Effie always reminds me that so much is going on outside of my little District. The world is changing, and I'm kind of glad that I can hide away here and be shielded from it all, at least for a while.

I get up, stretching my arms above my head. It's nearly noon, and I'm kind of hungry. All I've had to eat today was some bread this morning. But I need to see Katniss now. It's only been half a day and I miss her terribly. Plus we need to talk, whether she likes it or not.

As I walk to the back of her house, I think about what I should say. I don't feel that I have anything to be sorry for, so I won't apologize. In fact, she should apologize for yelling. But I can't be harsh with her. Otherwise she'll just pull back and probably yell at me again.

The latch on the small basement window is a bit sticky, but I'm able to open it after a moment. Hefting those bags of flour around pays off sometimes. It is a tight fit, but I'm able to squeeze through the window. I lower myself to the ground, dropping down between racks of clothing. Despite my lack of fashion sense even I think the pieces are beautiful. They looked even more beautiful on Katniss. I think about all the tears she poured into the memory book page about Cinna and wish that I could have known him better. I wish that he and Portia had made it through the war. Too many good people died. Suddenly the dresses are like hanging corpses and I have to get away.

I go upstairs, finding the kitchen in a bit of disarray. She knocked things over yesterday in her rush to lock the windows. Suddenly I'm nervous. This is our first fight since she told me that she loved me. I don't know how these things are supposed to go. My mother was always mad at my father for one thing or another. He never tried to apologize, considering that he never knew why she was mad in the first place. Haymitch told me last night to just leave her alone, but I can't do that either, so I just head up to the second floor.

Her bedroom door is locked. Fortunately everything in these houses is falling into disrepair, so I'm able to use a knitting needle from her mother's old room to unlatch the locking mechanism. My hand hesitates over to doorknob. I never did decide what I was going to say, I realize.

I open the door and find her exactly where I knew she would be – on the bed, on top of the covers, starring at the far wall. She's fallen into the darkness of her mind again, and at least I don't have to think of anything pretty to say yet. My words always fall on deaf ears when she's like this, so I just approach the bed slowly. Her feet are dirty and her clothes are bunched in strange angles. Probably from thrashing around in her sleep.

I get a damp washcloth from the bathroom and wipe off the bottoms of her feet. The cold cloth must have shocked her, because I hear her hiss through her teeth. Her deep depressions have been lasting less time as the months pass. During the last one it only took her eight hours to come back to herself. Considering that she used to not leave her bed for days, this is progress.

When her feet are finally cleaned, I put the washcloth back in the bathroom. She's turned over on her back when I return, and her eyes are puffy from crying.

"I'm sorry," she croaks, and I'm startled, because she hardly ever apologizes first. "I'm so sorry."

I crawl into bed next to her, pulling her to my chest. Yesterday she hurt my feelings, but now she's breaking my heart. "It's okay," I murmur against her neck.

"I was so scared," she whispers, her tears dripping on to my cheek. "I don't want to have a baby, Peeta. This world… it's too dangerous." Her chapped lips brush against my forehead. "I'm sorry I blamed it on you. It isn't you, Peeta. I love you. It's just easy to forget how horrible the world is when I'm happy with you."

She's happy. This is something I knew, but just to hear her say it makes me hug her closer. "The world is getting better," I tell her, hoping to convince both her and myself.

"Do you think it will ever be good enough, though?"

Her voice sounds so young, and I lift my head to look into her eyes. She's so raw, so unguarded in this moment, that I can't help but kiss her. Her skin is sweaty from sleeping without the window open and her fingers are shaking, but she's just so damn beautiful. "If I'm with you, then the rest of the world doesn't matter," I tell her.

Then she scowls, her brows drawing together. "That was so corny," she says, shaking her head in mock shame.

"Maybe, but it's true," I reply, glad that she is able to joke again. "Katniss, I won't lie, I'd love to have a baby with you." She immediately stiffens in my arms, her eyes widening in panic. "But just having you is enough. Just being able to hold you like this, to see you smile, to hear your voice… It may be corny, but if I have you by my side, then I can face anything the world wants to throw at me. Hell, we made it through two Hunger Games and a war. We can make it through this."

She nods, and I can practically see the thoughts racing through her mind. "I don't want a baby," she says again, as if to make sure I understood her the first time.

"I know," I reply. I keep my own fears about us eventually having children from her. She has enough on her mind.

Katniss sits up then and stretches her arms above her head. I can't help but admire the curve of her body and the arch of her back. Her head turns and she looks at me, her cheeks suddenly flushed. "Isn't this when we have make-up sex?" she asks.

My jaw drops and my eyes widen. Is this really Katniss Everdeen? The girl who wouldn't even look at me naked two years ago, who could be made to blush in embarrassment so easily, the girl that me and Finnick and Johanna taunted for being too pure before the Quarter Quell? And now here she is, pulling her shirt off, looking at me with the eyes of a huntress, and oh damn, I'm her prey.

She throws her bra off before I can even try to reach for her. Katniss is standing on her knees, looking down at me, and I don't know if it's the stuffy room or her palpable lust that's making it hard to breath. "Fuck," I hiss, pushing myself up and pressing my face between her breasts. My tongue darts over the tender flesh, tasting the saltiness of her sweat, and she sighs as she pulls my shirt over my head. Her body is so beautiful, I just want to taste every inch of her. I don't know how she drives me wild so quickly, but when I feel her hard nipple against my lips and her fingers digging into my hair and her voice panting my name, I push her down on the bed and start tearing at her clothes.

Her hunting pants are heavy and I don't know how she was able to sleep in them. I toss them aside, and now she's spread out on the bed, her thin legs wrapping themselves around my torso, and she's a glowing goddess in the afternoon sunlight. I let her pull my body forward, pressing kisses up her stomach and ribs, grinding my erection against the juncture of her thighs. Katniss moans and I move my hand down into her panties. She's already so wet. I grin against her collarbone and slide one finger into her slowly, and she's pushing her hips up for more already. Her lips are against my ear, pleading, "Peeta, please, Peeta!"

I've never been able to deny her anything. The room is so hot that I feel like I'm floating as I pull off my shorts. She's already flung her underwear off the bed, her hands grabbing my arm and bringing me back to lean over her. "I missed you," I murmur.

She stops pulling and looks up at me. Her eyelids are heavy with lust but her gaze is crystal clear. It takes my breath away. "I missed you, too," she says, and I believe her, even though she was the one that locked me out.

Propping myself up with my arms, I lean down and press a kiss to her neck. She sighs in pleasure, and the heat between us becomes too intense to deny. Her legs are wrapped around my waist and she groans my name as I slide into her. She's so tight and wet that it's almost too much, but I take a deep breath and calm myself. Katniss is below me, shaded by my body, with her dark skin glistening with sweat and her loose hair splayed out on the pillow, and she paints herself like a picture in my mind, too amazing for words. "You're beautiful," is all I can muster.

She smiles – not her usual grin or smirk, but the soft smile that she only puts on for me. "You are," she returns, licking her lips in a hungry manner.

And that's what this is, I realize. This is hunger. It consumes both of us as I move over her, watching her face. She always closes her eyes, concentrating on the feeling of our bodies together, but today I want her to look at me. "Open your eyes," I whisper.

Katniss complies. She keeps them open wide, locked on to me, like I'm an anchor keeping her on the ground. I'm so close and it takes all my self control to hold back. Suddenly I remember what we had been talking about previously, about the possibility of a baby. "Katniss..."

"It's okay," she pants, "I can't get pregnant with the shot, so please, Peeta, don't hold back."

That's enough to drive me over the edge. I press my forehead against her shoulder and her hands are rubbing up and down my back. "Peeta," she coos, "You're so amazing, Peeta."

I look at her, cheeks still flushed, eyes still begging for me to finish her. But she is waiting for me, and these little acts of consideration from Katniss mean so much. She's still trying to apologize, but I'm not angry anymore.

Pressing my mouth to hers, I pull out and reach my hand down to touch her. She moans against my lips and her legs begin to shake in anticipation. "You're so beautiful," I tell her again as I press my fingers into her, watching her face as she comes a moment later. Her hips buck up hard against my hand and she lets out one loud burst of air, like she has been holding her breath. "Katniss," I whisper, pressing kisses to her neck as her body shivers in pleasure. "Katniss, I love you so much," I can't help telling her, over and over. My love for her in that moment, when she lets herself come undone for me, makes my heart feel like it will burst out of my chest.

"Peeta," she moans a minute later. Her eyes are partially closed as she turns, curling into my chest. "Love you, too," she manages to mutter before her eyes close. I guess she didn't sleep well last night, either.

Suddenly my exhaustion hits me in full force. I pull her closer and press a kiss to the crown of her head before I let myself drift off to sleep.

* * *

><p>I wake up to the sound of a stomach growling. Katniss is still laying on my chest, but now her eyes are open. "I'm hungry," she says, pushing herself up to give me a small kiss.<p>

"Me too," I agree, noticing the hollow feeling in my stomach. We slowly get up, our bodies still overly relaxed from having sex. She pulls on a plain shift dress and lets her hair fall around her face. The curves of her body poke appealingly at the fabric. When I had first returned to the District, she was so thin that it frightened me. It's so good to see her healthy.

"Hurry up," she says, throwing my shorts on the bed, snapping me out of my thoughts. I pull on my clothes and we head out of the room, opening windows and unlocking doors in our wake. She looks a bit embarrassed but doesn't say anything. Even when we get to the kitchen that is still a bit messy, she just scowls and stomps around, picking things up and shoving them back into place. She's always been too hard on herself. At least she's learned something from all of this. I hope.

I pull out some rabbit and set about making a quick stew. Katniss is at my elbow, constantly poking her head forward to smell the pot as it cooks. She stirs as I open the windows, letting fresh air into the stuffy house.

Apparently drawn by the smell of food, Haymitch makes an appearance a few minutes later as I'm mixing up a batch of dough for cheese rolls. He takes two steps into the room and a scowl crosses his face. "Smells like sex in here," he grunts, plopping down at the table.

I'm laughing, flour floating around the bowl as my stirring motions become choppy. Katniss groans and puts a hand over her face, but I see her smile curl out around her fingers. "We're finally acting like real teenagers. Shouldn't you be proud?" I say, grinning madly. I know that Haymitch understands us. He's more observant that he appears, and he somehow knows everything that goes on with us, though he likes to pretend that he doesn't care.

"Stupid kids," he grumbles, taking a long swig from the bottle he brought over with him. "Just hurry up and feed me so I can get out of this cave of hormones and sweat."

Katniss sticks out her tongue at him as she stirs the stew pot again. "If you don't like it, then don't eat our food!"

Haymitch leans back in his chair, letting out a loud belch. "You wouldn't let an old man starve, would you?" he asks.

"You're forty-two, you aren't old! You're just lazy and drunk," she replies, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter, keeping within smelling range of the stove.

"I'm not that drunk right now," he declares, like it's something to be proud of. And for him, it kind of is.

Katniss puts up her hands like she is amazed. "Let me call Plutarch, this is breaking news!" she mocks, wiggling her fingers at him.

The rolls are done by this time, so I let them cool and take over stew duty from Katniss. "I'll call Effie," I add, "She'd be so impressed that she might want to see a slightly less drunk Haymitch for herself."

His eyes widen and he looks horrified. "I honestly don't know which one would be worse," he mutters around the lip of his bottle.

"Plutarch," Katniss says, settling herself across from Haymitch at the table. "He would want you to talk and stuff. Effie would just flit around and chatter. At least that wouldn't require much effort." As soon as I set the bowl of stew in front of her, she picks up her spoon and starts shoveling it into her mouth. Somewhere between mouthfuls of food she mutters "So good" and "Thank you, Peeta".

"Meh, you don't know Effie Trinket like I do," is all Haymitch says in response as he begins to eat, and he and Katniss look so much alike in that moment that it's hard for me to believe that they aren't related.

I sit between them and eat my stew a bit slower, though now I'm ravenously hungry. Katniss tears into a cheese roll like she's a wolf ripping into a little defenseless animal. The feral look in her eyes is slightly frightening, I have to admit.

The two of them are on to seconds well before I'm done with my first bowl. They elbow each other at the stove, arguing about who gets to get more food first. I rest my chin on my hand, chewing on a large bite of rabbit, and I feel an overwhelming warmth for the two of them. They're my family, and I could never ask for more.

I rethink my luck when Katniss knocks over a cup of flour in their scuffle. Both she and Haymitch are covered in white powder, an identical scowl mirrored on their faces. I'm laughing so hard that my ribs hurt. "This is your fault," she mutters at him, wiping her face off with a towel.

Haymitch just grabs the towel and his bowl of stew. "Fuckin' kid," he grumbles, wiping off his face and shoving more stew into his mouth at the same time. Katniss looks at me, which only makes me laugh harder. Her eyebrows are still full of flour. I help her finish cleaning off as she eats a cheese roll, still glaring at Haymitch. The two of them finish eating in silence, only broken by my own occasional laughter when I find more flour on them.

Our Mentor leaves without a word, chugging on his bottle of clear liquor as he stomps off the porch. The back of his head is still covered with flour, and I have to hold my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing again. It hurts too much. Katniss helps me clean up the bit of flour still on the floor, and we do the dishes, me washing and her drying. "I'm going to hunt tomorrow," she says.

"I'm glad. Everyone in town missed you today." They had all asked about her. I hadn't really known what to say.

She scowls. "I'm sorry," she says again. Her hands tighten around a plate that she is drying. "I shouldn't have reacted like that."

"It's okay," I tell her. "I know you were just scared."

"I still shouldn't have yelled at you. I don't want to be cruel to you anymore."

I look at her then, watching her scared hands dry a glass. She won't raise her eyes to me, but I can see the shame in the tilt of her shoulders. "Katniss, just relax."

This seems to startle her, as she nearly drops the glass. "What do you mean?"

I sigh. "You don't have to act a certain way. Stop thinking about what you should say or do. Just... relax."

Her eyebrows crinkle and I know that she doesn't really understand what I'm saying. This world that raised her taught Katniss to always be afraid, and I don't know if that will ever leave her. I don't know if it will ever leave me, to be honest, but at least I see the problem. Katniss can't even see outside of her fear to look for a solution. "I'll try," is her response, and I guess that's the best that I can expect from her at this point.

We're both still tired, so we head up to bed. She yawns the whole time she is changing into her pajamas. I feel the same way.

"Hey, Peeta?" she says as we are laying together in the dark.

"Yeah?"

"Did you wait up for me all night last night?"

I suddenly feel embarrassed. "No," I say, but my tone isn't nearly convincing enough. I've lost my touch.

She shifts in my arms and kisses my cheek. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Katniss."


End file.
